Flight Plan
by Cusswords
Summary: Robin Novak didn't believe it would happen to her. Elliot and Olivia Stabler didn't believe it would ever happen for them. When the impossible shakes up two families, everyone wonders where they're headed. Casey/Chester. E/O.
1. Equilibrium

**A/N: **So, here's the sequel as promised. Did I say a few weeks? Well, I meant a few hours. I was on a roll and so I started it. Deal with it. :D

A few things before we begin:

This plot stems from a personal experience belonging to a member of my family. I'd like to thank them for giving me the okay to play around with their story.

Please keep in mind this is my first time writing a pairing, let alone two. I might be a slightly rusty so bear with me.

I tend to pull fan wanks. Sorry. It happens. I do, however, warn people in advance.

**Exhibit A:** Chester did not kill the dirty cop at the end of Cold. The father of the murdered girl, however, did. Chester attempted to cover for the man, but DNA evidence proved Lake innocent and he was cleared.

**Exhibit B:** Casey and Chester had a relationship throughout Season Nine. When Casey was unjustly let go and Chester acquitted, the two left New York, settled in the Washington DC area, and started a family.

Secondly, this is the sequel to Defining the Nest. While it isn't imperative that you read that story, I would recommend it since it explains some of this plot line

Lastly, happy reading. :)

* * *

**Chapter One: Equilibrium**

April 2015

Robin Novak lost her virginity to Michael Jackson.

Well, not to the proboscis lacking king of pop himself, but the whole experience measured just as high on the repulsive Richter scale.

Okay, that wasn't fair. Caleb Moss was a great guy. Funny, charming, not to mention he took great lab notes. He had a nice car and he had a knack for choosing killer Chinese restaurants. He also had a freakishly annoying obsession with 80s hair bands. He was so besotted with their eyeliner and ear murdering guitar riffs that he grew his hair out and wore it all big and teased and uglified—and 80s day had long since passed and Halloween was eons away…

And yet there she was, playing tonsil hockey with her very own Vince Neil, in a dimly lit storage closet like nothing else mattered.

And nothing really did in all honesty. Okay, sure, an 80s themed party was happening on the other side of the door. And, yes, he was twenty-two and she…wasn't. But they were celebrating the end of midterms and minus the Maybelline and mousse, Caleb was really great—not to mention there was enough sexual tension between the two of them to make Jenna Jameson uncomfortable. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Though she did kind of wish there was a bed near by or maybe for something more dignifying—like privacy.

"You're sure about this?" he asked, pushing a stray curl from her eye.

She nodded.

And so it happened. She lost her virginity to the dulcet, clever arrangement of Michael Jackson's Billy Jean. A song from her mother's childhood…

Her mother…what would her mother think? She probably wouldn't. Casey Novak would probably kill her oldest child first only to later wonder why she acted on her worst impulse. She and Robin were alike in that way, though Robin would rather eat cat shit with a knitting needle than cop to that.

And thinking about her mother during sex—wrong on so many levels. Seriously, what would Freud say?

_Just remember to always thing twice…_

* * *

Mid-May 2015

_People, don't you worry about me._

"Did you get it?" Robin looked up from her copy of Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged just as her best friend had shut her bedroom door. "Did anybody see you?"

"You know I must really love you," Jason Hunter tossed his backpack on her bed before falling backwards onto her mattress, his arms spread apart. "I mean first I took on grueling and demeaning work just to get my parents to _think_ spending about grand to fly me up to our nation's capital so I could take your sorry ass to the prom. Then when I get here you send me to the drug store and make me walk amongst unsayable products of the feminine persuasion to get the object that must not be named. Do you know some random old lady yammered on about me living in sin and how I should like marinate in holy water for eternity. I wonder how she would've reacted if she found out I was raised by lesbians. Too bad we were in an express line."

"You're rambling. It's annoying. Stop," she closed her book and sat it on her nightstand. She lowered her back onto her soft mattress. She stared up at her ceiling, the fading baseball posters from her childhood glared back at her. "Besides, chaperoning your little sister's mini date at the movies doesn't fall under cruel and unusual punishment."

"Yeah it is, it's right there in the Fourth Geneva Convention. It clearly states that no grown man should be forced to watch musicals depicting stereotypical high school scenarios with screaming tweens and soccer moms."

"Anyway…did anybody see you?"

"Yes, everybody at the store," he rolled his eyes. "Nobody would put two and two together, all right? Now shut up and quit worrying, you have bigger fish to fry."

"Don't remind me," she groaned. Pulling herself upward, she rummaged through his bag, looking for the oracle that was going to tell her if she ruined her life or not. Ripping open the colorful box, she read the instructions. Pushing up her glasses, she frowned. "It only takes a minute."

"…and that's bad because?"

She shrugged, bouncing to her feet. "Not bad. I guess it just proves how short life really is."

A minute and a half later, she emerged from the bathroom. She went rigid, her face blank as she stood in the middle of her bedroom.

"Are you?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Fuck."

"Fucking equals unplanned fetus," Robin crossed the room, seeking refuge in her bed. Huffing in—she wasn't quite sure what the feeling was—and moved to the edge of her mattress, hugging her pillow close to her chest while she lowered her head. "This really sucks."

"Yeah," he sighed and draped his arm over her shoulder. "I can imagine that it might."

"I have no idea what to do," she admitted softly. "I barely got my full ride to Columbia and now _this_. And my parents…my overprotective—"Robin think before you act" we barely trust you to bathe yourself—parents are gonna shit enough bricks to rebuild the Empire State Building!"

"When are you going to tell them? _How_ are you going to tell them?"

"Who says I have to?"

He nodded, thumbing her shoulders. "You're having an abortion?"

She shook her head like a person shivering, her eyes earnest and thoughtful. "I can't do that. I'm pro-choice; no doubt about that, but that option isn't for me. I don't think I could live with it."

"I know you're having a hard time and I don't mean to be harsh, but how to you plan on hiding your preg…"

"Don't even say it!" she shouted.

He recoiled a bit. "Sorry..."

She raised a sheepish hand. "I just can't hear it yet. I don't want it to be real."

"…but how do you plan on hiding your _condition_ from your family? Your mom maybe a super career woman who spends her entire existence in an office, but even she's bound to notice. And your dad, when he finds out, he's gonna flip!"

"Chester's not my dad," she glared hotly.

"_Step_dad. Apologies. You don't have to think about all of this now, but you're going to have to face this at some point."

Robin threw the pillow, knocking over the trophies on her dresser. "I should've listened to Michael Jackson."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jason frowned.

"While Caleb and I were…yeah…Billy Jean was playing. You know _the ki-hid is not my son! Ah he he!_"

"Umm, yeah…singing…not your best look. As for the song, Mike the Molester was right on the money…you should've remembered to think twice."

"First of all, Mike was totally not a molester. That was just a way of backing him into a corner so that he would sell the rights to The Beatles songs."

"If somebody says something about you for twenty years, chances are, it's true."

"Dude, people have been making homophobic remarks since togas were vogue. Does that make them true?"

"Have you ever considered being a lawyer? You'd be a good one, probably as good as your mom if not better."

Her eyes darkened. "I am _nothing_ like my mother."

* * *

One Week Later

_Evil gon get buried by me._

Caleb stuffed another spoonful of noodles in his mouth. He had yet to speak, his brown eyes darting like a searchlight in a storm.

Robin cleared her throat, dropping her fork into her plate. "So…um…what do you wanna do?"

He smiled. His face was reassuring to the point of appearing nonchalant. "We'll take care of it."

"We can't _raise_ it! I start college in the fall and you're obsessed with glam metal that was recorded before you were even a twinkle in your father's balls. We're not fit to be anybody's parents."

"Gee, why don't you tell me what you really think," he took a sip of water and sighed. "I meant…I meant have an abortion. Look, I'll pay for everything. There's a clinic an hour away that doesn't require a note from your parents. It'll be like this never happened."

"See, there's a flaw in your logic Tommy Lee: this _did _happen. We can't just pull out a magic eraser and carry on with our lives!"

"Oh come on Robin! We don't love each other! We hardly have anything in common…"

"Yeah, except for the fact that we had sex and reproduced…"

He groaned. "You know what I mean!"

She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. "I'm not doing it."

"You're acting like child! I have a life, I had a life before I met you! You can't just jump right in and expect me to end it because we made a mistake!"

She blinked. That wasn't what she expected or wanted for that matter. Sure, it wasn't earth shattering, but it was sort of special—at least to her. "Wow. That was enlightening."

"I didn't…look…that didn't come out right. You were perfect…in that moment. But beyond that, beyond what we had, there was nothing. I'm getting married in two months…"

She didn't hear him right. She did not hear him right. "…huh?"

"I'm getting married in two months."

She heard him right. "Wow, you kinda neglected to mention that when you ripped off my clothes like Tarzan on meth."

"She and I were having a rough patch."

"So you plant a seed with me? Were you always this much of a Neanderthal or did you take lessons?"

"I was stupid," he shouted. He cringed at the annoyed looks from the other customers and immediately dulled his voice to a whisper. "I was stupid, but people make mistakes. There's no reason to turn this into a life ending one."

"It's a little late to start trying to protect your fiancé's feelings, don't you think?"

"You can't be serious about this! Think about the consequences."

Consequences. She could think of several of those pesky little assholes. Like the way she would live her life based on a series of what ifs if she had an abortion. Or the way she would look at babies, wondering why she didn't keep hers. Or maybe it was the way her mother would look at her. Like a disappointment, like a failure and a waste of her time—the way she looked at her father.

Caleb could never know any of that. Nobody could. "You should've thought about those before we did the deed. I didn't plan on this baby either, but it's here and there's nothing we can do."

"There _is _something we can do!" he slammed his big fist on the table. "You can take the money and have an abortion,"

"No matter what you say, this kid's coming into this crappy world. You can either deal with it or you can't, but I'm not about to go under some needle to protect your feelings! You can forget conning me into having an abortion just as fast as you forgot me."

"You're such a child. Too fucking precocious for your own good!"

"_Then why did you have sex with me?"_ she gritted out.

Reaching across the table, he brushed his fingers across her arm and she didn't pull away. He smiled softly. "Because you're smart and you're beautiful and you're funny and you're quirky, but I don't love you."

"That's fair," she withdrew her arm and stood up. "Have a nice life."

_Well, I'm gonna choo choo out this little town,_

_And soon as I do I'mma get on down_

* * *

Mid June 2015

_Don't you worry bout me_

_I'll be fine_

_Well that's what I tell 'em, baby_

_But I'm lyin'_

"I was nervous about graduation too, but not that bad," Casey Novak-Lake leaned against her kitchen counter, listening as her oldest child was puking out her vital organs in the bathroom a few feet away. "She's been in and out of there for the last two days."

Olivia Benson nodded, glancing at the closed door.

"Hey," Casey touched her closest friend's arm. "Everything all right."

"Uh, yeah," she smiled and scoffed a little. Putting on her best smile, she glanced around the room. "Where are the kids?"

"Chester took Ned and Liam dress shoe shopping. Georgie's probably got her head in a book somewhere," Casey furrowed her brow. "And that was an excellent attempt at deflection. Now, what's going on?"

"I said it's nothing," she snapped, stepping around to the other side of the island counter.

"Defensive? Check. Pretending like nothing's wrong? Check."

"Can you just drop this?"

"No."

Olivia gave her a salty look.

"Oh come on. What are friends for? Something's obviously bothering you. Come on, I'll put some tea on and…"

"Are we going to braid each other's hair too? I said there's nothing to talk about and I'd really like you to respect my boundaries."

"All…"

"Elliot's going to leave me, all right? Satisfied?"

"I was going to let it go, but obviously you needed to get it out," Casey looked at her friend a moment before leading the older woman into the living room. "Sit. Now, why would you think anything like that?"

"By the way, Elliot sends his apologies. The twins are graduating from NYU and he had to be there."

"And he'll be sorely missed. Now, back to you? What's got you so afraid of losing a man who's been devoted to you for almost two decades."

"You know how important family is to Elliot. He loves his children. He loves kids. When we got married we know that…that I was going to have some trouble, but we didn't bargain for this much. The doctors say my chances of getting pregnant are slim to none."

"Have you tried other methods?"

She shook her head. "All of them. Two miscarriages and each of them took a little bit of Elliot and our marriage with them. And menopause is showing signs of moving in."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this? You know I would've been there?"

"Then it all would've seemed real and I can't deal with that. I can't live with my body, something I can't change or fix, driving the man I love away."

Casey covered Olivia's hand with her own and the two of them sat there in a blanket of silence, the both of them oblivious to the fact that they had a listener.

* * *

"You're sure about this," Robin tossed her dirty clothes into the basketball hoop hamper on her closet door. "I mean word for word?"

"Yup. It's kinda sad, don't ya think?" Georgie sat on the edge of her older sister's bed and plucked a few more notes on her guitar. "I mean Aunt Liv's always been there for us. She was kinda like another mom before we left New York and moved here. It just doesn't seem right that she can't make her own babies because her meno's on pause."

Robin never had the heart to tell her precious baby sister that simply because she shared a birthday with Kurt Cobain, didn't mean she shared his talents. Instead she listened as Georgina butchered Simon and Garfunkel's _Bookends_ and gave her a little piece of information that could possibly turn everything around.

"Robin are you even listening to me?"

"Uh, yeah, Aunt Liv…yeah it's sad. Must be awful for Uncle Elliot."

"Olivia think's they're gonna get a divorce. That just isn't right. How come some people can make babies and some people can't?"

Robin shrugged. "Lucky I guess."

* * *

Two Weeks Later

_Mama, don't you worry about me._

_Papa, don't you worry about me._

"Do_ we hav_e to go in there?" Casey half whined and dropped her suitcase on her front porch. She and her husband had just come from a much-needed vacation in Maui. It was wonderful, except for the fact that it ended much too quickly. "Champ's responsible and the kid's fear her wrath. Just one more day…"

Chester sat his suitcase beside his wife's before leaning in to kiss her once, twice, gently on the lips. "That would be child abandonment. The authorities tend to frown on that."

Casey laughed, then whispered onto his lips. "You're amazing."

He smiled an almost diffident smile, his brown eyes dancing, and leaned in close, his face into her neck. "You too," he said, his warm breath tickling her ear.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, but Chester stretched himself free, his face full of his familiar, confident grin. "Come on," he patted her shoulder and turned his key in the lock of their front door. "People are waiting."

"It's too quiet," Casey arched her brow and glanced at her watch. "It's eight on a Saturday night…"

"The light's on in the family room. Maybe they fell asleep."

The two parents made their way through the dark hall, their suitcases long forgotten on the porch.

"Okay kids, come on now. It was fun earlier, but I have to pee and then run for my life…"

"That sounds like Travis," Casey picked up her pace. "What the hell's going on?"

Casey pushed open the door to find her eighteen year old nephew tied to one of her dining room chairs and her three younger children dancing around him in a circle, waving various eating utensils.

Travis saw her first, a sparkle of hope in his eye. "Aunt Casey! Hi! Get your kids!"

All three children stopped moving, glancing at their mother with various forms of guilt written on their faces.

"Mommy!" Four-year-old Liam rushed to his mother, demanding to be picked up.

"What the hell's going on in here?"

"Your kids are performing human sacrifice. That's illegal might I add. Untie me and I'll go about my merry way and you know, pretend I was never here."

Chester used that moment to make his entrance. He blinked at the sight before him, an amused smirk tugged at his lips. "Well, this is a new one."

"Hey Dad," Ned abandoned the fork he had been brandishing and collided into his father's open arms. "We missed you guys."

"Travis what the hell is this and where's Robin?"

"Robin went to New York to visit Auntie Liv and Uncle Elliot and Eli," Liam piped from his mother's arms.

"_What?!"_

"Mommy, maybe you should try calming down," Georgie, who was smart enough to remain at least six feet away from her mother, spoke for the first time.

"Scout, I love you, but I'm not in the mood. I know you and Champ talk about everything and I know you know what's going on. So I suggest you talk and I suggest you do so quickly."

"Robin didn't tell me anything."

"Liar," Ned declared. "I saw you guys whispering by the door before she left."

"Way to go Cowboy," Georgie muttered. She turned her conflicted blue eyes on her mother. "I'm not supposed to say anything."

"Look, now isn't the time for scout's honor," Travis snapped. "I can't feel my hands here!"

However his frustration seemed to fall on deaf ears. Casey tilted her head and sighed, setting her youngest son on the floor. "I know you want to protect your sister's privacy, but it really isn't safe for Robin to be taking such a long drive by herself."

"Your mother and I just want to make sure Robin's okay."

"This is all my fault," Georgie rested her elbows on her knees, bringing the palms of her hands to her cheeks. "I should never have told her."

"Told her what?"

She sighed. "I heard you and Aunt Liv talking about how she couldn't have kids. Robin went to New York to try and make her feel better."

"That doesn't add up, Scout."

"It's the truth, Mommy! That's all Robin told me!"

"And you," Chester turned to Travis. "What do you know?"

"Besides that I'm going to wet my pants?" he groaned at his uncle's lack of interest. "Nothing. Robin called me and asked me to watch your little hellions. Said she had something to take care of. Can you untie me now?"

"And you were so willing to help that you drove nearly two hours to get here?" Casey folded her arms.

"You have a persuasive kid."

Chester chuckled. "What does she have on you?"

"Telling you would defeat the purpose of spending tons of gas money don't you think? Again, can you untie me now?"

"I'll think about it. In the meantime," she turned to her three children. "Scout, Cowboy, Chief…upstairs. In bed. Now."

No protests were heard as Georgie ushered her younger brothers out of the room. Casey watched her husband untie her nephew who bolted away as soon as he was free, no doubt in search of the bathroom.

"She would've told me if something was wrong," Casey plopped on the couch. "At least, I thought she would."

Chester gave her shoulders a squeeze. "I'll call Elliot and Olivia, see if she's made it."

She nodded absently, wondering where she went wrong.

_I live a life, but it just ain't mine._

_I know I'm your son, why don't you let me shine_

* * *

Later that evening…

She heard them talking on the other side of the door. They were laughing, going on about nothing. They didn't seem particularly unhappy. Elliot didn't sound like he was leaving and Olivia didn't sound empty.

But people put on airs and some were better thespians than others. Robin knew that from experience.

She brought her hand up to the doorbell and took a deep breath.

Their voices stopped and she heard footsteps. Heels. Olivia.

"Who is it?" the laugh in her voice hadn't died. That was a good sign.

"It's me."

"Casey? What are you doing…" Olivia flung open the door. Brown eyes bore into green. Mrs. Stabler smiled. "Robin? How'd you get here?"

"I...I um…I drove," she shrugged her shoulders to the black Prius parked out by the curb. She bounced on her heel, glancing nervously from side to side. "I know I should've called but…"

"Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine. I…can I come in?"

"Of course, come on," Olivia gave the teenager's shoulder a slight push. Once inside, she took the girl's hand. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Remember when I was little, when my dad died and you said I could come to you for help? Well…yeah…I think I need your help. I think we can help each other.

_Some call it baby blue._

_Some call it midnight blue._

_Whatever hue is what we gonna do__._

_We gon play until you feel happy__._

_Til there ain't no more blues__._

* * *

**A/N: **So, what did you guys think? Should I continue or quit while I'm ahead?

In the mean time, the lyrics in this chapter are Michael Jackson's _Billy Jean_ and Outkast's _Idlewild Blue (Don't You Worry About Me). _Visit my profile if you want to hear the songs.

Thanks for reading folks. :D


	2. Schisms

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews folks. Shout outs to everybody with this sucker on their alert list…

On a random note, this chapter is dedicated to my pal **Coke **because she put up with me in the wee small hours. And please she dropped a plot bunny that I might tweak and roll with. :)

* * *

**Chapter Two: Schisms **

_Who can you trust?_

_If you can't love sin, who can you love?_

_If I begin will you let me finish up?_

"Sorry I went all Linda Blair in the Exorcist on you," Robin kicked off her ravaged pair of black Chucks and made herself comfortable on the Stabler's couch, feet up on the cluttered coffee table. She gratefully took the tall glass of water Olivia held out to her and downed it in one steady pull. "You know, I played this scene over and over on the drive here and I gotta say—not one scenario depicted me projectile vomiting all over your rug…"

"You're sure?" Elliot questioned from the carpet he was scrubbing like a scullery maid on speed. He looked up, his blue eyes mild and frank, jabbed silent needles into Robin's façade. "You took a test?"

She nodded. "First Response because it responds first, you know? Yeah, they're pretty straightforward these days. Yes or no. The positive and negative signs were so 90s anyway."

Olivia cleared her throat. "Does your mother know?"

"Surely you jest," Robin quipped, genuinely amused. She paused and looked from husband to wife. "You're serious?"

It was cute when Elliot and Olivia finished each other's sentences. It was like Molder and Scully meet Lavern and Shirley. They were so busy lecturing her that they didn't notice she was staring at the television in a trance: anchor dude with a toupee, random old men fox trotting because erectile dysfunction was a thing of the past, some pill that cured arthritis but made people shit out their uteruses as a side effect, Feed the Children, blah, blah, blah.

She blinked when the television was abruptly shut off.

"Now isn't the time to don your space commando suit, Robin!" she heard Elliot say, and she recognized the note of melodramatic parental angst in his voice. "Are you listening to a single word we're saying to you?"

She was trying very hard not to, but that would only encourage them, and tonight, more than anything else, she didn't need to hear anything about her mother's non existent support.

"You need to tell her," Olivia softly persisted, resting a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Look, I didn't come here for a lecture," Robin shrugged her hand away and hoisted herself to her feet.

"You're family and we're here for you, but I gotta tell ya, driving four hours in the middle of the night for emotional support that could've been given over the phone…"

"Okay, for one, it's daylight savings time so it was light most of the way. Secondly, it's only seven forty five."

Elliot shook his head and stood up. He smiled, ruffling her unruly curls. "I know this is hard for you and I know this sarcastic gung-ho wonder-teen image you have going is just a cover up. You're terrified and you think the walls are closing in on you. Deep down you feel like you're alone, but you're far from it. Your mom, your dad—"

"Chester isn't my dad," she said peevishly. She ran angry fingers through the shag rug she called hair, instantly regretting the gesture when her fingers got caught. Softly, she murmured. "I have a father and I didn't forget him."

"Robin, listen," Elliot tried again, looking over the teenager's mass of jet-black curls at his wife, who was just as stuck as he was. "I'm not gonna stand here and analyze you. When I was in your situation, I didn't wanna hear anybody play shrink either."

Her eyes softened. "You…"

"Yeah. Kathy and I weren't much older than you when she got pregnant with Maureen. I had dreams, kid, a hell of a lot of 'em. I used to stare out my bedroom window and look at the lights of the city," he let loose a small laugh and dipped his head, his eyes lost in the memory. "They were so bright, so full of everything and nothing—an infinite source of freedom. It didn't even have to be Manhattan. I had my one way ticket then—boom!-Kathy drops the bomb and every plan I made exploded into empty promises."

"But, see, that's where we differ Uncle Elliot. I'm not sacrificing this kid for my dreams and vice versa. I am, however," she looked from husband to wife. "Giving it up."

"Adoption," Olivia nodded. "Have you done any research? I mean, have you really sat down and thought about all this?"

"What do you think I was doing on the ride over here?" she paused, pulling on her bottom lip. "Why do you think I'm here in the first place?"

Elliot opened his mouth to speak, then closed it as realization trampled over him like a stampede of elephants.

"Oh hell…"

Olivia shot off the couch like a jack-in-the-box, waving her hands as though she were conducting the outpouring before her.

"You know, stress causes ulcers so you might wanna tone down the emo knob."

"You want us…you want us to adopt your baby?"

"Well right now it's an embryo, but it'll be a cute ball of human life in seven months, give or take a few days…"

"Robin…" they started simultaneously.

"No, no, listen before you dismiss the opportunity of a lifetime. Georgie heard Aunt Liv tell my mother about the glitch in her duplication hardware. Evidently my gestation cabinet is in working order. I know how much you guys want a family all your own and I thought I could help."

"Robin, that's very thoughtful of you…"

"I know, right?" she barreled ahead, completely oblivious to the cloud of hesitation that was hovering over the room. "I think of it like a microwave. You want to make a Hot Pocket and you need it extra bad or your sanity will be axed , but your microwave is acting like a bitch. Mine's working like magic and I just heat the thing up and—ding! —nourishment."

Elliot drug up is brow. "Nourishment?"

"Bad word choice, my bad. I mean seriously, this could work. And besides, you guys would make ugly babies. Your bone structures are totally incompatible. I'm talking Liza Minnelli and David Gest…"

"And now she insults our genes," Olivia laughed. "Robin, seriously, I know you're trying to be a good friend, but this could prove to be a difficult solution for all three of us."

"No," she shook her head defiantly and sank back onto the worn couch. Taking a deep breath, she started fidgeting with the pull strings on her hoodie. "The truth is I don't trust anybody else with this kid, not even myself. You guys are some of the strongest, loving people I know. Aunt Liv, you dote on Eli when he's here. Hell, you spoiled Georgie and I rotten while we were here. And Uncle Elliot, you're honest and protective and family oriented. You don't lie to your kids, you give everything for them. I know you guys won't kick this kid aside like some residue from a mistake…"

"Like your mother kicked you aside."

It wasn't a question. She said it like she knew, like she knew what it was like. A flash of raw pain dimmed her green eyes, but Robin sobered quickly. "Wow, this has absolutely nothing to do with my mother."

"I know you don't wanna hear this, but your mother loves you and she always has. You shouldn't let one little incident overshadow that."

Her laugh was bitter, cynical. "Loves me? Spare me the Disney movie love ballad, okay? You don't know anything about that and it has absolutely no bearing on this conversation."

"Elliot's right. We were there, we saw her. You were the first thought every morning and every night. What gave you the idea…?"

"You know what?" she abruptly stood to her feet. "I know I have my Mommy issues. That alone proves why I'm no good for this kid. I'm angry and I'm bitter and what I know I'm raising babies could fit in a crack vile, but I know that. And, ladies and gentlemen, that's the difference between my mother and I. I know when to step back."

"Robin we all have our pain and we all cope with it in different ways. If everybody who had issues with their parents decided not to have kids then this world would be empty."

"I know all that, okay Aunt Liv? Really I do, but I don't care. I can't be a mother to this kid. Not by a long shot. You guys can give this kid the one thing I never had, stability," at that she let off a small chuckle. "I mean, come on, you guys do put the Stabler in stability."

The Stablers smiled, though neither of them knew what to say.

"So, are you guys in or not?"

Elliot sighed, rubbing the palm of his hand against his cheek. "Robin it isn't that easy…"

"What's so hard? You guys can't and I can. You have a hole and I can fill it. The end."

"Robin you're thinking in black and white. What about the speckles in between? What about the gray areas? How about every time you see us playing with that child, you're heart will break. Or when you see your eyes staring back at you, but they're not looking at you the way you need them to?"

"I'll tell you what I know Elliot," she threw her shoes on and yanked herself to her feet. "I know you guys are just like everybody else. You said I could depend on you and when the going gets tough, you pull away. Well you know what? Fuck it. Forget I said anything. When you guys drown, don't say somebody didn't offer you a rope."

The Stablers jumped as their front door slammed and the sound of screeching tires sounded outside.

They stood silently rooted in the middle of their living room.

Elliot spoke first. "You told Casey?"

"It just came out."

He nodded.

"What if she's right? What if that kid's our only hope?"

He looked at her, surprised. He opened his mouth, but the howling of the telephone threw another fork in the road. They both stood there, each in their realm of possibility.

Elliot broke first and picked up the receiver. "Lake. I can guess what this is about. No, she just left. No, she didn't say where she was going. Listen, Robin needs her mother and I think you'd better watch this one from the sidelines."

_If I fell down would you pick me up?_

_If I don't drink from a silver cup, like you,_

_Would you say so long, farewell, and good luck?_

* * *

_If a man can't lie, how can he speak?_

_If the sun don't rise_

_Would the moon be out of reach?_

Two hours later Casey Novak-Lake found herself in Queens in front of the Katsaros house. Stepping out of the cab, she realized nothing had changed. Though she doubted what little welcome she had was buried with Charles Katsaros.

Those eyes, blue as she remembered them, nibbled at her resolve. She watched the plethora of emotion dance across his face. She half expected a smile. Instead he just stared at her, his eyes blank like a stopped clock.

"Chuckie," she smiled at the boy as soon as she reached the edge of the stairs. "Is Robin around?"

"No."

Casey looked at her car parked sloppily in the driveway. "So my car just magically appeared here?"

"If you knew why'd you ask?"

"Touché. So where can I find her?"

"In her old room. You know where it is."

He stood up and walked her to the door.

"You're what, thirteen now?"

He nodded.

"So, how are you?"

"What's it to you?" he asked darkly, holding open the door.

Casey nodded, taking the hint. He had his father's voice too. She made her way upstairs only to find Robin's door locked.

"Robin it's Mom. Open up."

The door swung open and Krista's brown eyes bore into Casey's soul. She braced herself for another dose of resentment, but Taylor Bowen-Katsaros smiled.

"Hi Casey! Long time no see."

"Look at you, you're all grown up. Wow, that made me sound old."

Taylor laughed. "Yeah, kids tend to grow up and all."

"So, what are you up to? Are you in school?"

She nodded. "Yeah, Rutgers. I'm home for the summer. Since Yiayia died Pappou and Chuckie haven't really been the same. I figured they could use the company. It helped a lot seeing Robin. Maybe you could send Georgie down too."

"Maybe," Casey looked over the girl's shoulder at Robin who was simply lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, her eyes tracing the hair-thin cracks across the plaster.

Taylor turned her head toward her little sister and back at her mother. "So, I'll let you guys talk. Robin if you need anything, let me know. It was great to see you Casey."

"So I take it Elliot and Olivia snitched me out," Robin said once the door closed.

"Uh, no, actually they did everything but," she sat on the edge of her daughter's mattress. Casey's eyes flickered to the picture frame on Robin's nightstand. Seven-year-old Robin's legs were wrapped around her mother's neck as she hoisted a trophy in the air, grinning from ear to ear. Casey picked it up, smiling. "We were so close."

Robin took the frame from her mother's hands and stared at the little girl and her mother. Then she hurled it against the wall, glass erupted throughout the room.

"What the hell's wrong with you?"

Robin shrugged. "Hormones."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, might as well tell ya: congratulations Mommy, you're gonna be a grandma before menopause."

"If this is one of your little jokes…"

"No, I can assure you, my warped sense of humor wouldn't touch this with a ten foot pole."

"How?"

"He copped a feel and it led to copulation and then that led to gestation. The actual act was just as quick as this sex ED lesson by the way."

Casey grabbed her arm with a surprising amount of power, enough to pull her upward. "I'm sick and tired of your shitty attitude. Now I get that you have a bucket load of emotions running through your head. I've been where you are. However, I'm still your mother and you need to show me some respect."

"Oh please," Robin rolled her eyes and retched free. "You're only my mother when it's convenient for you. And fine, I'll show you some respect, but only because you're old and it's bad karma to diss the old."

"I know things…I know things are rough between us, Champ, but I love you. And maybe you're too angry to hear it, but it's true. It always was and it always will be," Casey ran her fingers through her hair. "Sometimes I feel like I don't know you anymore. I thought you were a virgin."

"Well, this fetus ain't Jesus and its father sure the hell…I mean heck…wasn't the lord."

"And who _is_ the father? I didn't even know you were dating anyone," she paused. "Is it Jason?"

"Eww! _No!_ That's like asking if Elliot's Georgie's dad. Well, actually, with your track record of love em, leave em, destroy em, hell the father of my baby might be my kid sister's pops. That's too Jerry Springer even for you."

"I know you didn't—_Elliot!_—did you just say...?"

"Don't have a conniption. Elliot _will_ be this kid's dad and Olivia will finally realize her dream of motherhood. I want them to adopt it."

"That's why you went there to…are you crazy?"

"What's your problem? Uncle Elliot and Aunt Olivia are some of the best people I know and two of the few people I trust. They would be perfect for this kid. See, unlike you, I don't drop my kids on any and everybody and go back to my dysfunctional routine."

"Robin, I didn't dump you…"

"This isn't a debate and this isn't up for discussion. If Elliot and Olivia agree to adopt this kid, then it's done and there's nothing you can say or do to stop me."

"And if they don't?"

"They will."

"And there's a strong possibility that they won't. Then what? What happens to your life?"

"I don't know, but this kid's wellbeing comes first. I'll do what I have to for it. That's what being a mother is. Take notes."

"Robin whatever I did…"

"Leave it alone. Matter of fact, leave _me_ alone. Go back to your family."

"You are my family."

Robin said nothing, just crashed back onto the bed.

"At least come home and do this right. We need to get you to a doctor and we need to start you on prenatal vitamins..."

"Wow, you almost sound like you care."

A look of unadulterated surprise swept over Casey's face like a mackerel sky. "You honestly don't believe that?"

"I don't remember you giving me a reason to."

_If I came home__,_

_would you get down on your knees?_

_So go on and tear it up__._

_Black and cold with the dust__._

_Cause I believed in the lord__,_

_but he don't show up anymore._

* * *

**A/N: **So, chapter three might take longer. I have family coming in and apparently it's bad manners to lock yourself in your room and write all day. Who knew? Brandon will be in the next chapter** TvCrazed. I promise. :)**

The song in this chapter is _Dust_ by Augustana of the _Boston_ fame. This is one of my favorite tracks by them. It's on the playlist now. :D

Thanks for reading folks.


	3. Parallax

**A/N: **Sorry it's taken me so long to update. Things have been über crazy for me and I've had no time. Writer's block hung around for a little while too. Warning: This chapter is long. My bad. I thought about breaking it up into two, but there wasn't really a cut off point…

Anyhow, I'm rambling. I'll stop.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Parallax**

"She won't even talk to _me_," Georgie sulked into the family room to find her mother curled up on the couch, staring pensively at what the nine-year-old recognized as one of their many family albums. "What's wrong with her? She always talks to me."

"Have a seat." Smiling weakly, Casey patted the cushion beside her. Georgie obeyed, snuggling up to her mother immediately. Casey ran her fingers through her daughter's red hair, resting her chin on the little girl's head. "Robin's going through something very personal right now and she needs some time to process it all. She's probably very confused and very sad."

"Robin doesn't get sad," Georgie furrowed her brow. "She never cries, not even when Yiayia died. All she does is get mad, really mad."

"Sometimes it's easier to be angry than to be sad, Scout. And right now, Robin probably doesn't want to take any of it out on you."

Georgie sighed and nodded. "It makes sense, but I still don't like it." She smiled a little and relieved her mother of the album, pointing at a picture. Ten-year-old Robin had her two-year-old sister on her lap, the toddler's red curls sticking out like wings from her older sister's catcher's mask. "I remember that."

Casey laughed, nudging her youngest daughter's ribs. "How could you possibly remember that?"

"It's not like I have that much to go from," Georgie rolled her eyes. "Besides, I remember lots of things about Robin and me. When Uncle Lucky used to watch us and I would cry for you, Robin let me sleep in her bed. She would always talk about you, telling me stories about you and her before I came along. I don't remember any of what she said. She always sounded happy…"

Georgie stopped speaking as though she'd used up all the words she owned. Mother and daughter sat there in silence as Georgie absently flipped through the pages. Casey occasionally brushed her fingers over the soft plastic, half wishing for the easier days gone by.

"When you married Dad she stopped talking. She said there was nothing left to talk about. She didn't sound as happy after that."

"Mind if I join you?" Chester crossed the room and embraced his wife, who had stood as soon as he came in. She rested her head on his chest and he slid his hand around her waist, kissing the top of her head.

Georgina gave a small yawn, followed by a larger groan at her parent's public display of affection. She pulled herself from the couch and started for the door. "I'll be gouging my eyes out if anybody needs me."

"Goodnight Scout," Casey laughed, giving a little wave.

"Check on Ned and Liam on your way. Make sure they're asleep."

"Sure Dad," she shrugged and stumbled out, closing the door behind her.

Chester pulled away from Casey and started a fire in the fireplace while she returned to the couch and the photo album. The trees outside the window danced with the summer breeze, their branches tapping the glass like impatient fingers.

For the next few hours they picked through the photo album and talked. Sometimes she caught his hand and placed it on a picture so that he could feel the memory come and fade. Sometimes he would get up to poke at and feed the fire, glancing out the window and moving his eyes to the smooth rhythm of the branches. Their neighborhood was as quiet as their house. Everyone had long since gone to sleep.

Casey closed the album and stretched her arms. She leaned into her husband's chest and sighed. During their almost seven year marriage, Casey had to teach herself to need him during times like these. She had grown accustomed to sorting out her feelings on her own, to solving her own problems. Chester was patient, though sometimes he grew offended by her fierce independence. Slowly she learned to trust in him and he had become one of her few confidants.

"Robin's pregnant."

By the time she'd gotten around to speaking, Chester was already massaging her shoulders. His hands kept working and he seemed to be completely unaware, until his normally coordinated hands caught and tugged at a piece of her hair.

"With what?"

She spun around to face him. "What do you mean 'with what'?"

"My mind knows, but the father in me doesn't want to. I didn't even know she was seeing anyone."

"Apparently they were doing more than seeing," Casey snapped. "She didn't even tell me who the sperm supplier was."

"Well, what did she tell you?" he brought his hand up to his forehead to rub away the headache that was quickly forming.

"Everything and nothing. I swear I wanted to snap her pencil neck. Then I remembered that there are laws and that I'm too cute for prison."

Chester laughed, but it ended quickly. "What's she planning on doing?"

"Oh, see, that's the special part. That impromptu trip she took to New York was to play stork and hand Elliot and Olivia a little bundle of joy."

Chester remained silent as he harvested his words. He swallowed, delicately tasting the sound of them before he spoke. "I know I'm not Robin's father—something she reminds the world of every chance she gets—and on some levels it isn't my place to tell you how to raise her, but you need to reign her in and you need to do it fast. Robin is a brat and at the moment she's a pregnant brat. She's on an extremely dangerous path and we need to find a way to save her from herself before she ruins her life."

"She hates me," Casey looked down at the photo album, baby Robin's green eyes shined up at her mother. "We were inseparable until that damn accident and the next thing I know, she can't stand the sight of me. She's got selective hearing, only listening to me when she wants to. I take shit from her that I would kill anybody else for. There are days when I can't believe I gave birth to her."

"You spend way too much time trying to be her friend. You want to make up for not being there and she milks it for all it's worth. You're guilty and she knows it," he traced her colorless knuckles with his thumbs. "You shouldn't have to apologize for living life the way you wanted. Are there things that you might want to do over? Probably. Does she have the right to her feelings? Of course. I understand her reasoning more than everybody thinks, but she's been manipulating you for years and you need to stop letting her."

"That's all well and good," she closed the photo album and stood up, shaking away his touch. She paced the room in a brown study, two fingers on her lower lip. "So tell me Super Nanny, how am I supposed to fix this?"

"You can't, not instantly anyway. You need to take this one step at a time. However, one of the first things you is can start checking her. She needs to get away from her self destructive behavior and stop making these fucked up decisions."

Casey nodded, smiling a little. "Charlie told me to prepare for this."

"Charlie?" Lake arched his brow and folded his arms. She rarely talked about her ex-fiancé, Robin and Georgie's father. When she did bring him up, it was mostly with Georgie, who'd recently become curious about him. "Didn't know he was such an esteemed parent."

"Probably would've been if he had the chance," she mumbled.

"You're not still feeling…?"

"No! No, of course not," at his incredulous stare, she flashed a sheepish grin. "Slightly. You didn't see the way his son looked at me today. I might as well have killed Charlie myself."

"But you didn't. He knows that and so do you. So does Robin."

"He told me that Robin would turn into a fire breathing dragon as a teenager," she chuckled. "I just didn't think it would be like this. It's funny, how he knew her even then. I wish she could remember."

"And so does she. Deep down, she blames her father for taking himself away from her and since he's six feet under, you're the closest punching bag."

_I'll be your mirror_

_Reflect what you are, in case you don't know_

_I'll be the wind, the rain and the sunset_

_The light on your door to show that you're home_

* * *

"You're actually considering this?" Elliot Stabler handed his wife a beer, but Olivia shook it off, lighting a cigarette instead, tapping her lighter on the kitchen counter as she rode out the burning sensation in her throat. As she blew the smoke into the air, he narrowed his eyes. "You really should stop."

She shrugged, a small smile trembled on her lips. "I should do a lot of things."

"Like adopt Robin's baby."

"She's seventeen Elliot," she placed the lighter on the granite counter and began twisting it in a circle. She sighed. "She's got no business being anybody's parent."

"I know that, better than you."

She narrowed her eyes and flung herself away from the counter, sitting down her burning cigarette in the process. She busied herself with wiping the stove, a task she'd completed moments before.

"I didn't mean it that way."

"I know," she didn't meet his gaze. "Doesn't change the impact."

He took the sponge out of her hand and sat it aside, then turned her to face him. Her eyes were harder and grieving and much older than he wanted them to be.

Elliot leaned his forehead against hers, his eyelashes tickling her nose. "I'm sorry."

She exhaled softly and closed her eyes. "So am I."

He pulled away from her, his gaze licked at her veneer. "You don't have anything to apologize for."

She cocked her head and scoffed. "Don't I? Robin was right, you love your kids. And as unexpected as Eli was, when you held him—you should've seen your face—it was so magical. As much as I love him, every time I look at him I see that moment and I remember that I can't give it to you."

He nodded. He wanted to reach for her, but he knew she wouldn't let him. She wasn't one to need coddling.

"Olivia I love you and I'm not going to lie to you, I wanted a child with you. It hurt me when I learned that we couldn't… but that doesn't put a damper on how much you mean to me. Child or no child, I'm not going anywhere."

"You say that now and I know you mean it, but who are we kidding? There's a hole smack dab in the middle of our marriage and we need to fill it."

"And you think Robin can?"

She nodded silently.

Elliot sighed and rubbed his cheek. "That little girl has enough emotional baggage to clog an airport carousel. Don't you think giving up her baby might be the icing on the cake?"

"And having an abortion will just solve all her problems? Regret can do a number on a person, El. And what about the baby? I was raised by a mother with unresolved pain and if somebody told me I had a chance to grow up in a better environment, there's a part of me that would resent my mother for letting the opportunity pass."

"Olivia," he swallowed. "Your mother was raped and don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to justify anything in your relationship, but her anger and her resentment and her hurt were carved from a different grade of stone. Robin's pissed because her mother didn't spend time with her. Now I'm not making her wrong for being angry, but her melodrama is just flat out ridiculous."

Olivia shook her head and returned to the counter. She put out her cigarette, fiddling with the warm tip. "Pain doesn't revolve around the intent. Like I said, no matter what the person meant, it's the impact that burns."

"So Robin resents her mother for having a job?" Elliot folded his arms. "Right, and how did she think she got treatment, the money tree in her backyard?"

"I'm not making excuses for her, okay? I just don't want Robin…" she swallowed, gently shaking her head from side to side. "…I don't want her to give up on life. I don't want that little boy or girl to grow up being resented by its mother for ruining her childhood."

He took her hand, squeezing it as she fought the tears. "Liv, that baby isn't you and Robin isn't your mother," he paused. "Sometimes you can't save everybody from life."

"Both of them deserve a chance, Elliot."

He nodded at the truth in her words. "Yeah, but I don't know if that chance is us."

_I find it hard to believe you don't know_

_The beauty you are_

_But if you don't let me be your eyes_

_A hand in your darkness, so you won't be afraid_

* * *

_July 2015: Thirteen Weeks_

"So, uh, in a week I'll be done with my first trimester," Robin rested her hand on the slight curve of her belly. "According to the esteemed Dr. Nichols, the alleged baby has a larynx. Let's hope it doesn't inherit Georgie's vocal cords. Poor Elliot and Olivia. I'll even donate the greenbacks to finance the soundproof walls."

Casey smiled as they pulled into the driveway. Things were as calm as they had ever been, but that was mostly due to the silence. Robin remained locked in her room, only coming out when she went on her morning jog. She'd been in avoidance, even fending off Georgie's support. Everyone had tried to coax her out at some point during her four weeks of exile, but each attempt was met with a scathing insult or flying inanimate objects.

So it was quite unexpected when she agreed to allow her mother to accompany her to the doctor's office. Though she assured everyone it was simply because Jason was in Iowa visiting family for a few weeks, nobody bought it

"Have you heard anything from Elliot and Olivia yet?" Casey unbuckled her seatbelt and shifted towards the door.

"No," Robin shook her head and stared straight towards the garage. "They just need space. I wasn't exactly tactful about my delivery. I threw up a lifetime's worth of chili fries on their carpet and insulted their chromosomes. I mean, the whole thing had enough drama and angst to win a daytime emmy. They probably think I'm a wack job."

"Though I'm sure it was a special time for all those involved, Elliot and Olivia know enough about teenagers to know that you were probably scared out of your mind."

Robin narrowed her eyes and shoved open the passenger door. "Don't analyze me."

"You make it sound so easy," Casey rolled her eyes and started for the house.

"Have you talked to Elliot and Olivia?"

"Yes, but they're very clear on their boundaries and I'm respecting them."

"Since when? When you want something you'll sacrifice anything and anybody to get it and keep it. When did you become humane enough to let frivolous things like boundaries and respect stand in your way?"

Casey stopped turning the key and leaned dangerously close to her daughter's face. The girl's eyes hardened, years worth of defense mechanisms scattered into place like a revolutionary brigade. Casey Novak was too unimpressed and too fed up to fight her way through.

"It's early enough that if I kill you, I'll only do time for your murder."

"A lifetime to reflect on your horrible track record as a mother. You could save yourself the trouble and flip through a family album. Would save tons of tax dollars..."

"That baby doesn't make you an adult. Resenting me doesn't change anything and it never will. You'll end up bitter and miserable and you'll have nobody to blame but yourself."

Robin stepped back into the hard red brick wall as if that alone would deafen the cacophonic truth in her mother's husky words. "Like my father, right? He didn't take all the opportunities you afforded him and you threw him away. Are you going to throw me away too?"

"So this is about your father?" Casey's eyes softened. She fought her instinct to hug her daughter, almost surprised by it's presence. "Robin you're not your father."

"I know," she stood to her full height and shrugged. "You haven't broken me yet."

* * *

"A baby?" Ned repeated for the sixth time. "Like Rosemary's baby?"

"Hopefully you'll be its first victim," Georgie groaned and glanced at her sister who was slouching in the armchair, Casey and Chester on each side of her. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?"

Robin shrugged. "Didn't know how I guess. I'm sorry I haven't been much of a sister to you."

A few slippery cords from the guitar in her lap was her only response.

"What kind of baby is it?" Liam asked from the couch, snuggling closer to Georgie.

Robin laughed. "Well, I'm hoping for a boy or a girl. The baby's too small for them to tell me anything. Right now the kid's the size of a Nutter Butter."

"How'd it get in there?" Ned piped, his brown eyes wide with wonder. "I heard you have to swallow an egg and it grows inside of you until it's time for it to hatch."

"Just because her name is Robin doesn't mean she is one," Georgie smacked him upside the head. "It's like I'm the meat in an idiot sandwich."

"_Scout_," Casey admonished.

"I'll be quiet."

"Maybe when you're older, Cowboy," Robin looked up at her mother and stepfather, who seemed to be enjoying their courtside tickets. "Either of you care to take on that little gem? A popup book maybe?"

Chester cleared his throat. "We'll talk about it later Ned."

The six-year-old shrugged, already busying himself with is untied shoelaces.

"Where are you gonna put it? We don't have enough rooms and I'm not sharing with Ned. He snores!"

Robin fidgeted like a virgin on prom night. She laughed a little when she remembered that description didn't apply to her. There was no reason to be nervous she told herself as she glanced out the window and tucked a defiant curl behind her ear. She was doing the right thing.

"The baby's not going to stay here, Liam. I'm going to give it to a family that really wants a baby, but can't have one of their own."

"You're gonna have somebody adopt it," Ned wiggled his feet, the tips of his shoelaces drummed against the couch in time with Georgie's bludgeoned rendition of The Rolling Stone's _Happy_. "My friend Sam's adopted. He says he grew in his mom's heart instead of her tummy. If the baby's only growing in your stomach, does that mean you don't love it?"

Children should be seen and not heard. Love it? She hadn't really thought about that. She'd been too busy popping prenatal torture capsules and hanging out in the bathroom with Ralph and Earl to even think about her maternal instincts. So far the only thing mother like she'd gotten in touch with was the expanding milk farm that used to be her chest. Now that she thought about it, it took something out of her when she realized she wouldn't be around to nurse her own kid.

Loving the fetus was an entirely different ball game. It took a lot out of her to give up on things that she loved. Like when her cat was dying. Pollux, the ball of fur that had scratched up almost every couch and spewed hairy gifts all over every square inch of their carpet, was the Snoopy to her Charlie Brown. In his last months his liver started to fail and Robin was presented with one of the most painful decisions of life: let him suffer so she wouldn't or send him up to the pearly gates of kitty cat heaven.

The fetus wasn't a cat and it wasn't dying, but she understood enough. She loved the alleged baby enough to let it go, even though there was some tiny part of her that wasn't too keen on the idea.

Ned seemed to understand, Liam too, but Georgie wasn't sold.

"What do you mean you can't be a mom? You're always good with the three of us. You could take a cooking class or a hundred, but you're a good replacement. Why do you think you can't love your baby?"

Casey seemed to notice her daughter's discomfort and though she was just as curious, she decided to come to her rescue. "Scout, I'm headed to Wal-Mart. The music store's across the street and you said you needed some more sheet music."

Georgie took the hint and stood to her feet, but not before narrowing her eyes and shaking her head in her sister's direction. Ned and Liam followed suit, already begging for toys they really didn't need.

Chester and Robin remained, both silent. Chester sucked in a deep breath, lowering his eyes down to her small bump. "Well, I guess you're an adult now."

She flipped him off as he left, though she wasn't sure he was right.

_When you think the night has seen your mind_

_That inside you're twisted and unkind_

_Let me stand to show that you are blind_

_Please put down your hands_

* * *

_Two Weeks Later: 15 Weeks_

When the ball came flying toward her head all he could think about was _Simon Birch_. When Ashley Judd's character got clonked in the head and subsequently died, the lives of all involved took drastic turns. What if _she_ died, the girl with the baggy sweatshirt and ripped up jeans. Who would miss her? Would anybody's life end or take on a new beginning? Brandon Hunter shrugged. That stupid court mandated therapy was really doing a number on his manhood.

Nevertheless, he donned his big red cape and took off down the field to her rescue, screaming like a jet going down the entire way.

She saw him before she heard him. Maybe it had something to do with the gargantuan bear costume he had on. He flailed his hands like a windmill, but the smile erupted across her face. Her laughter was like a rollercoaster and Brandon found himself holding his breath on the way up, and exhaling on the way down. At least she would die laughing.

He closed his eyes. He couldn't watch. He stood motionless; eyes clenched shut, waiting, wondering what would happen next. But nothing did. It was too quiet. Her laughter was gone. The ride had ended.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and he opened his eyes. The girl stood in front of him grinning like a skull, holding the white ball just inches from his leather nose. Her eyes wide as two silver dollars, she placed her free hand over her stomach.

"You're not dead." he managed.

"Not on the outside anyway," she shrugged, the smile fading only slightly. It quickly brightened again and Brandon found himself happy about that. "I suppose I have you to thank for that, Smokey."

"I merely played my part," he took the ball in his paw and smiled a smile he was glad she couldn't see. "You're not hurt or anything?"

She shook her head. "Nah, but I wish I had a glove. My hand kind of stings."

"That was one helleva catch. You play?"

"Used to," she swayed her converses from side to side, the grass leaving delicate stains on the white canvas. "Used to play here sometimes against the Bears. I played for the Bulldogs when I was a kid."

"No shit? Me too. I'm probably before your time though."

"Don't let the baby face fool you. I was catcher on the travel team from '06 to '08."

The bear head hit the grass with a soft thump. He reached out and clamped his paws on her shoulder.

"Well, if it isn't the Gorgon of Queens. Little Robin's all grown up," he grinned. His brown eyes trailed down to her stomach and flew back to her eyes. "And pregnant. I'd bet my reputation that my not yet removed cousin's your baby daddy."

Robin rolled her eyes and shoved him backwards. "Sorry, there's a three dollar minimum."

"So it's not Jason's. Pity, I thought the two of you would grow up and get it out of your system. So, I guess that means," he pointed at her stomach. "…you're taken."

"Get your head out of the fifties, Hunter."

"Ah, so you're another statistic. Apparently you guys are going up. According to research that also means you're a product of lax parenting. Does Mommy still work all the time?"

"I'd ask about your dad, but there's no point. Tell me, what was it like when you cut him down?"

Brandon stared down at her, opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it and shrugged. His face went still as granite, his brown eyes darkened to a cold black, alive with pain. Turning on his fuzzy heel, he nodded and started down the field.

He stopped a few feet away and turned around, his classic smirk set firmly in place. "The game's almost over. We could hang out for a few. Why don't you hang out on the bleachers?"

_Want to, want to put you together_

_Want to more and more_

_Want to with the biggest smile_

_Peeking out of either eye_

_Come and come and look we're on a roll_

* * *

And she did.

They caught up on the last few years, though she avoided the subject of his father like Carlos Mencia avoided originality. He coached the peewee Bears team when he wasn't building houses under the tutelage of his father's friend. The youth coaches would alternate on playing Bixby the Bear. She caught him on his lucky day.

As she listened to him go on and on about the vapidity of his everyday life, she noticed that his eyes seemed harder. He started growing his hair, now in a shoulder length ponytail, when he got out of military school. A sign of independence, he'd said. His long black hair reminded her of all the actors that had played Jesus. Thus reminding her of Depeche Mode's _Personal Jesus_. A deity and classic British electro-alternative—maybe he wasn't so bad.

For his part, Brandon seemed to dance around the fetus and she let him, until he asked why she was in Queens.

"So Anne of a Thousand Days, using your uterus as barter?"

They were in front of Elliot and Olivia's house now. She leaned against the white picket fence, almost afraid to let them know she was there. She'd gotten there early and asked the cab driver to drop her off at the playground. Now she almost regretted it.

"I'm more like the other Boelyn girl. Putting a sock in what's best for me and looking out for the people I care about."

"How noble of you," he folded his arms. "What about what the kid wants? Ever stop to think about that?"

"Considering that the kid's ears are barely in place, I doubt that I can consult it on the subject. And besides, I trust these people. I know they'll love it and take care of it," she paused and bit her lower lip. "And why am I explaining myself to _you_. You don't know anything about parenting, considering who you were stuck with."

Slowly and deliberately, Brandon slid his hand up on her cheek, stepping obscenely into her personal space. He brushed her hair away from her ear and pressed his mouth against her lobe. With a whisper's breath of air separating his full lips from her ear, his cinnamon flavored breath waltzed across his tongue.

"You go from hot to cold, almost like a cognitive dance. You should get that checked out you know. Emotional instability's a problem for you, isn't it? I wonder if you're baby buyers will stay in the game if they knew you were carrying a genetic Trojan Horse. I'm sure Daddy's rolling in his grave."

Dropping his hand from her face, he stepped over the curb and walked backwards into the street, smiling all the way.

As she stumbled up the stairs to hear the Stabler's decision, Robin Novak knew she'd met her match.

_Are you an acceptable host?_

_All for the best and the best then we left so._

* * *

**A/N: **The lyrics in this chapter belong to The Velvet Underground (_I'll Be Your Mirror) _and Clinic (The _Equalizer)_. Both are now on the list. Both are two of my personal favorites. Check them out beyond the two songs if you're not already familiar with them.

Like I mentioned above, things are crazy for me right now. Why should you care? Because updates may be less frequent. I'll try my best to keep it coming, but I just wanted to let you all know. No more disappearing for six months like with Defining the Nest. :D

Thanks for tuning in folks. R/R if you would be so kind. XD


	4. Harbinger

**A/N: **Thanks for all the support ladies and gents! So, as an early birthday present to myself and my other night owl pal Vie, I decided to bitch slap my writer's block and update…

* * *

**Chapter Four: Harbinger**

_Landed in a very common crisis_

_Everything's in order in a black hole_

_Nothing seems as pretty as the past though_

With smoke curling from the cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, arms akimbo, Brandon watched as Robin untangled herself from the Stabler's home to scurry down the steps to invulnerability. She didn't even notice him watching her. He knew this because there were tears, tears big as bullets, sniping from her eyes.

He yanked the cigarette, which he wasn't really interested in, from his lips and whistled. She stopped dead in her tracks and locked her watery eyes with his immediately. She didn't even bother to erase the tears. It was beautiful, her humanity. A ménagerie of emotions coruscated in his head as he crossed the street. There was a part of him that wanted to make everything okay for her. That scared him and neither of them would care for what fear turned him into.

Robin yanked open the white gate, almost severing it from the fence, and glared at him with such unprecedented ferocity that he would've flinched if he didn't find her little snarl amusing.

"Are you stalking me now?"

"No," he flicked his cigarette onto the concrete. He mashed it with his black steel toe boot, watching as the tobacco spiraled around the white wrapper. He looked up and smirked at her like a young urchin. "But I'd like to."

"Fuck you," she dried her eyes on her sleeve and pushed past him.

She started walking so fast that he had to run to catch up. "I'd take you up on that offer, my haughty little harlot, but seeing as you're already lugging around another dude's neonate—I'd feel almost dirty."

She kept her eyes trained ahead. "Why, pray tell, are you following me like a love sick puppy?"

"Maybe when I grow up you'll be my bitch."

He ran his tongue over his lips; the sour taste of his own blood helped him cultivate a sharp smile. Her right hook had improved. At least she didn't tackle him like she did the last time he'd pushed her buttons. This time, however, he probably wouldn't have shoved her off of him.

He grabbed her wrists before she could hit him again. His smile broadened, but this time it refused to meet his eyes. "That hurt."

Robin tried to pull away, but his grip was hard and icy as a steel manacle. "Good," she spat. "Let me go and I'll do it again."

"And then I'd have to smack you back and I know you wouldn't like that."

"And then I'd have to castrate you and turn your family jewels into pâté."

"Still a little hornet? What's got you so angry?"

She narrowed her eyes, still struggling in his grip. "My stinger's gonna be your only problem if you don't get your grubby mitts off me."

He lowered his eyes, pricking her skin as he slowly decided where to settle them. "Everybody knows hornets keep their stingers in their…tails. And besides, anybody can take out a stinger and once it's gone, you know what happens…"

Something in her subsided and her eyes thawed. "What do you want from me?"

"When you're finished manufacturing this little product," he used his free hand to pat her stomach. "I think…think I want you to have all my babies."

"And manhandling me like a Cro-Magnon man is supposed to inspire me to ruin my life and the Novak gene pool?"

"Looks to me like your mother took care of that one. Did they turn you down because of your genetic gift? Is that why you were crying?"

"And where was _your_ mother while your dad was kicking your ass? What was it like being dangled like bait at the end of a hook long enough so your mommy could away?"

He released her and as she stumbled backwards she managed to find some sort of balance, but not before slamming her back into a tree. She slid down to the ground, sticky speckles of bark jabbing into her spine.

Brandon watched her plummet, siphoning gobs of air as he chastised himself for letting her in. He heard her wince and to his surprise, something struck him as she brought her hands to her belly, obviously concerned about her pending progeny.

He found himself by her side, hauling her to her feet. He grabbed her shoulders and shook them a bit. "Are you okay?"

She plucked herself out from under his scrutiny and took a few steps backwards in the direction of the Stablers' house. "Why do you care?"

He shrugged. He really didn't know and he told her so.

"Leave me alone."

"You shouldn't be alone right now," he said softly. "Not if you did what I think you did."

"You don't know me and even if you did, this isn't any of your business."

"Don't care. Look…I'm sorry. Can I make it up to you over, say, a slice of pizza? I know pregnant chicks crave grease like Salieri craved recognition."

She rubbed her arms. The friction brought the redness of warmth to her fingers and cheeks. "I don't know you."

He tilted his head and tugged at the end of his ponytail. "What do you wanna know?"

_Remember when he used to be a rascal?_

_Oh that boy's a slag_

_The best you ever had_

* * *

_Remember when the boys were all electric?_

_Now when she tells she's gonna get it_

_I'm guessing that she'd rather just forget it_

_Clinging to not getting sentimental_

_Said she wasn't going but she went still_

_Likes her gentlemen to not be gentle._

"I completely forgot about Grimaldi's," Robin took a bite of pepperoni cheesy ecstasy and leaned back against the cold, hard park bench. "I haven't had pizza like this since I was little."

They decided to have their dinner in Brooklyn Heights, Brandon's idea. They stood in line for almost thirty minutes and they used the time to stand in silence, only offering each other an occasional question and a succession of "uh-huhs" or "nahs" as answers.

It was also Brandon who suggested that they sit in the dimly lit park by the water and enjoy the fiery fresco of the evening Manhattan skyline. The shuttle from La Guardia didn't leave until 9:30 so they had plenty of time, she'd told him. What she didn't let on was that he was just a distraction, not to mention the provider of a really delicious free meal, and he was keeping her mind off of what she had done. Or more accurately, what Elliot and Olivia were trying to talk her out of.

"Well I'm glad I could jog your memory," he said, keeping his impenetrable gaze on the sunset.

She smiled and helped herself to another slice. The sunset peaked through the leaves of the trees around them and the almost solemn absence of all other sounds, except the music of the water lapping against the concrete and guard rails and the sloshes of their chewing, almost made Robin sad.

"So," she wiped her greasy hands on a napkin. "It's just you all alone in that big house?"

He didn't bother to look at her. "You're afraid of silence, aren't you?"

"What? No. I was just…"

A shower of braying laughter smacked her face as she watched him stretch and turn to face her. That stupid smirk of his. Every time she saw it she was blatantly reminded that he was still eight years old.

"I think you're afraid of your own thoughts. Or…or…maybe it's the voices. That's it, the voices. I hear it's like an orchestra in your little heads and you guys go ape shit because you can't figure out which notes to follow."

"Basically you invited me out to torture me..."

"Um no, I kinda envisioned a date, but then I realized my girlfriend wouldn't like that so much so I settled for pie and my own little version of purgatory. And," he gave her a sharp nudge. "Don't change the subject. You're like an open book, the way you hide from your own mind. Daddy's there, isn't he? Even though you still can't remember him, you know it's just a few more turns of the hands of time 'til you wake up and you realize you're your worst fear."

"And what about _your_ worst fear? You stay in the house where your father killed himself. It's almost like you see the place as a trophy, like you won something out of the deal. How sick is that? You live off the man that ruined your life. And the way you can't stand to be contradicted, like it makes you less of a Neanderthal if somebody else doesn't feel down, shades of your father's vice, kiddo. I'd get that looked at if I were you."

"So, it doesn't bother you that I have a girlfriend?" he smiled, fixing his ponytail after the soft breeze decided to have its way with his hair.

She had gotten to him again and both of them knew it. "You're just something to pass the time away."

"Until you lose your mind?" he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Or until I have to go back to DC, whichever comes first."

"What time does your flight leave?"

She glanced at the clock on her cell. "In about two and a half hours. I like to be there early though."

"All right then," he nodded and folded the empty pizza box in half. "I'm gonna find a trash can and then we'll be on our merry way."

After watching him jog off, Robin stared at the fading sunset, her eyes calculating and her brows knitted together in a frown, as if the meaning of life was stashed between the various hues of orange and purple, waiting to be translated into something she could understand.

What if there was nothing to understand. What if she only had a speckle of time before her worst fear became reality? Why couldn't Elliot and Olivia understand? The entire time she watched the trail of blood from their hearts as they tried to make everything all fluffy and Martha Stewart perfect. It wasn't. _She_ wasn't. Why was that so difficult for everybody to grasp onto?

Robin felt his hand on her shoulder and for some reason that pissed her off. She spun around to face him, thinking of sparking up another round of psychoanalytical bantering before she returned to suburban seclusion, but two slithering blue eyes told her everything she needed to know.

"Easy, tiger," he spoke slowly and smoothly, like he'd done this before. And what was _this_? "What's a pretty little thing like you doing out all by yourself?"

"I'm not," she shot to her feet and began backing away.

"No? Couldda fooled me," he snickered. He appraised her, as if she were on an auction block, undressing her. His eyes stopped at her stomach and he looked up, a smile slicing his face. "And in your condition too? Oh, now, the world isn't as safe as you think. You shouldn't be so careless."

She turned to run, but he was on her, quickly throwing her onto the bench, pinning her arms against her head.

"But we were just talking," he whined directly into her face, exposing a set of perfect teeth.

His smile faded, however, when he realized a gun was smashed against his head. Through a curtain of fear she saw Brandon move for the trigger. Brandon seemed to notice and pulled the gun away, caught hold of the thick head of slick hair, and swung.

"Are you okay?" he asked after the night crawler had slumped into a ball on the ground. "Maybe you should've tagged…"

There she went again. He rolled his eyes.

"I told you about hitting me! And what the hell kind of way is that to show gratitude?"

"You were…you were gonna kill him."

"You're upset."

"Of course I'm upset! You almost killed somebody!"

"But I didn't, but only because you wouldn't let me," he smiled a little. "Don't worry, he'll probably wake up in a few hours with a hell of a headache."

"Stay away from me," she started backwards toward the busy streets and bright lights. "Stay the fuck away from me."

Brandon Hunter stared at her receding form and shrugged, kicking the unconscious man in the stomach. This wasn't ordinary. He tucked his gun away and hurried on in the opposite direction. As the night finally became pure darkness, he decided that he liked that.

_The best you ever had_

_Is just a memory and those dreams_

_Weren't as daft as they seem_

_Not as daft as they seem_

_My love when you dream them up_

* * *

Georgie was standing over the stove when Robin entered the Novak kitchen nearly four hours later.

"Poisoning yourself at this hour?" Robin glided over to the freezer, jerked open the door, and begun digging for her ancestors in her mother's beloved Cherry Garcia.

"That would be too easy. Actually it's for you."

"Sorry Scout, not that desperate."

Georgie stirred whatever steaming toxin was bubbling in the stainless steel pot and sighed. "It's just canned lentil soup. I read online that lentils have this type of vitamin B that takes down the risks of neural birth defects. I figured with your brain, Peanut could use all the help it could get."

"Well aren't you a walking version of Childbirth Without Fear and Columbia thinks highly of my noggin by the way," Robin smirked and settled down at the kitchen table.

"It's called affirmative action. They have to let a certain amount of retards in or the ALCU will get mad," Georgie dumped the soup into a bowl and turned off the stove. She sat the bowl on the table in front of her sister and smiled triumphantly. "Behold!"

"You watch too much public access television," Robin shook her head and inhaled. "Dare I say it, this actually smells...remotely edible. I'm proud of you."

Georgie blushed the color of her hair. "Really?"

"Don't be an ass, of course I'm proud of you! You're my little sister. You're smart, your cute in the right light, and you're there for me…even when I'm acting like a bitch."

"I would be nice and say it was the hormones, but since I like to be like you: you're always a bitch, I just adapted."

"That's my Scout," Robin nudged her and grinned.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," Casey staggered into her kitchen, half asleep and in search of a glass of water.

"Nothing major, just feeding Robin so her bambino doesn't come out retarded."

"That's very nice of you Scout," Casey patted the girl's head. Her eyes caught the green digits on the microwave that announced it was several hours past Georgina's bedtime.

"I know, I know," Georgie leaned over and kissed her sister's cheek. "Night Robin. Night Mommy."

When they were alone, Casey watched Robin cautiously stir her soup, as if a foreign life form would jump out and rip off her head. She contemplated her relationship with her eldest child. Their lives had become a choreographed partition. Robin was out. Casey was out. Robin was balled up in her room. Casey was surrounding herself with her husband and other children, hoping they could fill the hole. Everything was wrong and solicited heated debates. She couldn't remember when the last time she heard "wanna go to the cages" or "lets go riding or something". That bothered her, but not more than the fact that she couldn't tell if Robin cared one way or another.

"You should try the soup," Robin said more to her bowl.

"Georgie?"

"Yeah."

"We still have a ramen bowl left."

"You know, you should learn to give people a little more credit. They might surprise you."

Casey nodded and then helped herself to a bowl. She sat at the other end of the table, uninterested in a fight.

"If it's so delicious, why aren't you acting like the glutton that you are and pigging out?"

Robin dipped her spoon in and out of her soup. She didn't eat it though. "I'm thinking," she said quietly.

Casey stopped in mid chew and squinted. "There's blood on your sweater."

"What?"

"I said there's blood on your sweater," Casey repeated forcefully.

"Oh," she looked down and poked at the small stain. "Nosebleed. They're as common as they are annoying during pregnancy."

"I got them a lot when I was pregnant with you, actually. Mama suggested I start using a humidifier and they cleared right up."

"Noted," Robin smiled a little. "Hey, uh, have you told Grandma Nana or any of your brothers about my recent development?"

"Nope, I was leaving that up to you. Liam's birthday party's next week and as you know, everybody's flying in. And you get to enjoy the singular beauty of telling your overdramatic grandmother and overprotective uncles about the little bump in your road."

"Oh, joy, I can hardly wait," she groaned. "Yeah…so…do you think…mind if I ask you something?"

"Since when did you start valuing my opinion?"

"Well since you're the only mom I got, well, I guess you'll just have to do. So, listen, it's about my dad. When he first started to, you know...what made you…what gave you the idea that you could help him?"

"Way to get into the heavy stuff after you ate all my Ben and Jerry's," Casey laughed. "It's complicated. In summary, I loved Charlie and I guess part of me thought that would be enough, that if he knew that I loved him, he'd be willing to seek treatment."

"So you're saying he didn't love you and I enough to get help?"

"No, that's not what I mean. In a simple world with simple solutions, Charlie would have loved the both of us enough to check into the facility. Life doesn't operate inside of A or Z, Champ. There's twenty-five letters in between and all of them mean something and have the ability to put different aspects and events together. Whatever we decide to do has an equal and opposing reaction. Unfortunately, I had to learn that the hard way. Well all did."

"But Dad still got help. Even though it was from somebody equally insane..."

"Look what happened in between and after."

"So what you're saying is even though the good deed gets done, there will always be somebody that gets punished?"

"Why do I get the feeling this isn't about your father?"

Robin decided to make her exit. Pushing in her chair, she left her bowl for her mother to clean up.

"Goodnight Mother."

_Falling about_

_You took a left off Last Laugh Lane_

_You just sounded it out_

_You're not coming back again._

* * *

Brownie points to anyone who can guess the inspiration behind Robin and Brandon's bantering. I would just tell you, but it would give so much away.

This was my attempt at foreshadowing. Don't knock it too hard. :) And Olivia and Elliot, among others, will be seen in the next chapter so stay tuned.

The song in this chapter is called _Fluorescent Adolescent _and it's by the Arctic Monkeys. They're awesome and they're on the list. Enjoy them. I do.

And now, I shall ask all of you a favor. In my profile is a poll. Please cast your vote. It's very relevant to the coming chapters (and the color scheme :D). It'll remain open until my next update so vote vote vote!

Again, thanks for reading and for the great feedback. You know I love it.


	5. Semblance

**A/N: **It's been a _long _time. I'm back and I come bearing a long update, a very long update. This chapter gets into Robin's motives and introduces some mini-plots so hold on folks.

Thanks for the feedback and reviews, ladies and gents. I know a lot of you are confused, but I promise I'll tie everything together.

Happy reading and big ups to all the people who have me and this story on their favorite and alert lists.

* * *

**Chapter Five: Semblance**

_Nothing heard, nothing said_

_Can't even speak about it_

_Out my life, out my head_

_Don't want to think about it_

_Feels like I'm going insane..._

Robin found herself sitting slumped on the edge of her mattress. Eyes squeezed shut like a supplicant. Her sight was turned inward. She was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, her arms shoved against her chest. Her lips were trembling and she hated herself for it.

She flung open her eyes and surveyed her bedroom. She was afraid to take in too much at one time. He was still there, but he wasn't real. She knew that, had for a long time, but he wouldn't go away.

Why wouldn't he go away?

Robin Novak had another burden to bear, a secret that she'd been keeping for a long time. Every time she closed her eyes he was there, his face echoing in her mind. Her decision had been made the minute he began massacring her dreams. She would never tell. Telling would prove her mother's point and catapult her worst fear into her reality.

Charles Katsaros was with his middle child all the time now, popping up beside her, hiding under her eyelids and smuggling guilt into her dreams. Robin would hurl herself awake and he would be there, sometimes staring at her with his sad blue eyes, other times with just his handsome face scarred and bruised from the car accident, with bottomless black pits where his eyes should have been.

He was always there—smiling sometimes and staring at others, sitting on her bed or standing up. Just there; waiting and taunting her with his very presence.

Robin didn't know why he was there or what he was trying to tell her. Didn't he know what he was doing to her, what he was making her think?

"What do you want?" she yelled. "What do you want from me?"

Those lost, dejected blue eyes just stared back at her.

"You're not real!" she yelled again, louder. "You're not real! You're not real! You're not real!"

"Hey. Hey. Hey," Robin didn't notice her door swing open and her mother steal into the room, half asleep and extremely worried. "What's wrong? I could hear you all the way down the hall."

Her chest heaved, and she tried her best to get a grip, but she couldn't do it. She burned inside and her breath came in quick short spurts, sweat pouring down and scalding her face like hot oil. Robin slid down to the floor and pushed herself against the cold metal of her bed. She pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, rocking herself back and forth.

"Robin…" Casey began tentatively. She swallowed hard, recognizing the twinge in her own voice. Charlie…she was speaking to her daughter the way she spoke to her father and that scared her more than the sight before her. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Lips moving. Rocking herself.

Casey shuddered. This was definitely not good. She sighed and moved to the floor next to her daughter.

"Robin…I can't understand you. Can you help me understand?"

She continued rocking, lips still moving. Finally, after some straining, Casey could make out what she was whispering: "You're not real!"

"Who isn't real, Champ?" she asked gently.

Robin's breathing quickly became even and she opened her eyes to find herself in her mother's arms, Casey's breath tickling her cheek. Robin didn't pull away. She didn't know how.

"Mom?" Robin looked up at her mother, who had her eyes closed. "Mom are you awake?"

"Yeah," Casey gave a small yawn and tightened her grip on her oldest child. "Do you want me to let go?"

Robin shivered at the disappointment in her mother's voice. "No."

"Good," Casey smiled and began combing her fingers through Robin's curls. "When you were really little, when you started sleeping in your first real bed, when you would have a nightmare, you would come in my room and push all the files and papers off of my bed, and climb right in. I rolled over on you a couple of times. The neighbors called the cops once because you screamed bloody murder."

Robin laughed. "New Yorkers showing concern for their neighbors…surely you jest?" the humor in her voice faded and she sighed. "I wish I could remember."

"I know," Casey whispered into her hair.

"It gets so hard sometimes," Robin brought the sleeve of her thermal pajama top up to her mouth and began chewing. She narrowed her eyes and kept them trained on her dresser. She was too afraid to look into her mother's face, terrified of what she might find there. She scoffed. "You probably think I'm a wack job."

"No, I think you're a scared kid with a shit load of change on her plate."

"Yeah."

"I know we're on shaky ground, but you know I have your back."

"Thanks."

"Well," Casey eased Robin out of her arms and moved to stand up. "You should get some sleep. The cavalry's arriving tomorrow and you've got some serious 'splainin' to do."

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Can you…uh…can you stay here? You know, 'til I fall asleep?"

"I…"

"Not to sound like a little kid or anything. I mean, being with fetus and all, you'd think I'd have this going to bed thing down to a personal science."

"Robin…"

"I'm not crazy if that's what you're thinking!"

"_Robin!"_

"…huh?"

"I would love to."

Robin flashed her mother a sheepish grin and climbed into bed. Yawning, she crashed into her nest of pillows. "Mom?"

"You're supposed to be trying to go to sleep."

"Don't nag, it pushes my 'rebel' button. So, you know, do you think you could keep this between you and me?"

"Some women experience panic attacks during pregnancy Robin, nothing to be ashamed of."

"I just…I just don't want you to think I'm turning into my dad."

"Hormones make all pregnant women seem schizophrenic. I should know, I've gone through it four times. Now," Casey leaned in and kissed her forehead. "To sleep with you."

Hormones, right. As she saw the shadow shimmer into view, Robin clamped her eyes shut and tried to imagine what her life would be like if things were that simple…or temporary.

_It's a thief in the night to come and grab you_

_It can creep up inside you and consume you_

_A disease of the mind, it can control you_

_It's too close for comfort_

* * *

"That's not fair," Liam declared the next morning when he saw his mother sneaking out of his sister's room. "You never sleep in my room!"

Casey yawned and glanced up at Chester, who was leading the boys downstairs for breakfast. His eyes were simmering with questions, but he settled for a nod. Liam, however, wasn't so understanding.

"How come you never sleep in my bed?"

"Robin needed me."

"Is she okay?" Ned asked, peering around her and into Robin's room. He furrowed his brow at her empty bed. "Where'd she go?"

"On her morning jog," Casey rubbed her bare arms and brought her eyes back to her husband's.

"You boys go down stairs and get started. Ned, help your brother with his cereal."

"I can do it myself, Dad" Liam declared as Ned gave him a shove toward the stairs.

"And you can spill milk all over the floor and make a big mess by yourself too," Ned shoved his little brother in the direction of the stairs.

"It's my birthday tomorrow and I get to do want I want."

"Well it ain't tomorrow yet so you gotta do what _I_ say."

Casey and Chester smiled as their boys descended down the stairs, the sibling's banter echoing off the walls.

"It seems like yesterday when Robin was that little."

"Everything okay?"

"I'm scared for her, Chester."

"I know," he wrapped his arms around her and sighed when she rested her head on his shoulder. "I know."

* * *

_Put on your break lights_

_We're in the city of wonder_

_Ain't gonna play nice_

_Watch out, you might just go under_

_Better think twice_

_Your train of thought will be altered_

_So if you must falter be wise_

Robin sat huddled in the far corner of the room, closest to the open window despite the sharp summer breeze. She held the cold stainless steel thermos, relishing the numbness it brought to her fingertips. Various brands and scents of perfume and cologne invaded the room, making her nostrils feel like frozen pipes. Chatter, some of it quiet but most of it loud, encompassed the room and covered the screeching sound of moving feet and chairs.

She wouldn't say anything about last night or any other night for that matter. She wouldn't speak today, not that she ever did. Four months, right around the time she got pregnant, give or take a few sessions and Robin hadn't offered a word. There was nothing she could say that hadn't already been heard anyway. She was only there to be around people like her—people who understood.

Casey and Chester didn't even know about how she really spent her early Saturday mornings, about how she jogged a mile each way to sit in one of the stuffy rooms in the back of Falls Church Community Center among people she never dreamed she could identify with. She didn't even speak to Jason about it. He knew why she was there, just never asked. He was good at that, making her seem normal, pretending like he didn't care who she was ultimately going to be.

When she started to show, people would come up to her and ask about the baby. Some commended her for not having an abortion, like she was some kind of hero. They was funny, the pro-lifers that she knew. They only cared about the little ball of innocence while it was insulated in gallons of life juice, but when the kid finally got catapulted into the world, they would stuff their tax dollars in their pockets and call her a whore for being an unwed mother. Then there were the braver and blunt ones who would ask why she didn't go under the knife, like she was some exception to the golden rule of teenage conception. Pro-fetus or not, they would all sputter out questions, each more intrusive than the next. They were a family, they would explain away, and they considered her to be a member of it, even if she did blend in with the furniture.

They wanted to know her due date and if she was eating healthy. Was she keeping up with her doctor's appointments? Did she need a ride? Maybe they could go shopping together or something? Did she want a boy or a girl?

And then they would whisper, their courage deflating, did she worry about it turning out crazy…like whatever psycho she shared chromosomes with?

She would stare at them, blink a few times, and shrug. Of course she did. She worried about it everyday. She wondered if Elliot and Olivia harbored the same fear and if they were so hesitant because of it. Robin knew she was ill-equipped at best and with the time bomb called her sanity slowly preparing to detonate, the last thing she wanted to be was the external, unbalanced force that shoved the kid head first into the cruel reality of the imperfect world. She hoped that when it was all said and done, Cletus the Fetus would be raised by two loving parents and never know the fear of growing up to be her because if she had her way, the kid would never know she existed.

"Hello, my name's Reginald and I am the son of a mother suffering from Schizophrenia."

Robin narrowed her eyes at Reginald the blond offspring of a loon and sipped her water. She hated how they spit it out, how they found peace in few phrases.

"Hello Reggie," the posse of progenies of psychos mumbled.

Robin just stared and continued sipping.

Reggie went on and on, bubbling with questions that he answered himself. People nodded their heads at what they could relate to and grimaced or offered sad smiles for what they didn't understand or care to know.

"Robin," the husky voice of the facilitator croaked. The smile on her face made her makeup crack at the corners of her almond shaped eyes. "Would you like to check in? Share something…about your baby, perhaps?"

Of course she didn't. Of course she didn't want to think about her father or reflect on what a horrible mother she would be. No, because that would throw her thoughts to somewhere, to somebody she was trying so hard to run from.

They couldn't know that. Nobody could. Nobody could know Robin, like Reggie's mother, was afraid of her thoughts, and walked through her life with fog on her cerebral lens. Being emotional, submitting to people, that was a deadly gamble. She would never tell anybody how much she struggled to feel, to be present with the simplicity of life. She would never tell that there was a wall and how that wall had a name.

_He was there, staring straight at her._

She bit down on her lower lip, trying to shove her brain away from her stupid thoughts. This always happened when the world reminded her that it was there and that she was supposed to be in it. This always happened when she remembered that she was going crazy.

Her mouth was taking the lead and it was going to spill out every last drop of emo garbage sloshing around her mind. Everyone was going to think she was Charles Manson wacko, like their parents, and her mouth was going to be her own personal cult and murder what little image she had.

"Robin, I'm not going to force you, but the first step to healing is allowing yourself to be present to your emotions and to allow your community to be a stand for you."

_You can't hide from me Robin._

"Do you want a boy or a girl," Reggie asked. He was sitting next to her now, trying to show solidarity.

"I don't know what I want," she mumbled. "I'm…I'm not going to raise it. I'm giving it up."

"Why?" A girl, Patricia, asked. She fiddled with the ends of her ponytail, taking its orange tips and rubbing them across her knuckles like a paintbrush.

And the levees broke…"Because I don't want to be my father and I don't want this kid to be me!"

The facilitator opened her mouth, but life decided to throw Robin a lifeline.

"Times up, Anne," Reggie said, though he seemed almost disappointed.

Anne nodded, but kept her eyes trained on Robin as she spoke. "Next Saturday, then."

Robin bit her tongue and swallowed until her throat was numb. Her thoughts rambled until they were out of breath and they gave up. She'd won.

She pulled herself up and waddled toward the door, eager to start the jog back. She needed something to focus on. She was turning into a bad Lifetime movie and that was no good.

Robin slid her headphones on, shutting out the world. As Pink Floyd pondered the bricks in their walls, Robin tried to demolish the paternal ones in hers. In fact, she had just managed to pull out her bulldozer when she felt the sharp sting of life intruding on her solitude.

Chester Lake rubbed is forehead and took his stepdaughter's arm. "Robin? What are you doing here?"

"Gathering a life," Robin retched free, yanked off her headphones, and sneezed directly in his face. "Let's hope it's contagious."

"The more indigent you get, the less believable you become."

"Did they teach you that in detective school? Too bad your skills weren't enough to help you keep your job."

"Wow. That was a brilliant attempt at deflection. However, it would work better if I hadn't quit my job."

"Noted," she jammed her headphones back in her ear and started for the door.

"You're working overtime to cover up something. And," he lowered his eyes down to her stomach. "I don't need to remind you that the last time you did that, you ended up pregnant. This time I'm stepping in on your behalf. You're going to tell me exactly what's going on and why you're here."

"I don't have to, you're not my father!"

"Robin, listen to me," he ushered her to a quieter corner of the community center's lobby. "I know I can't replace your father and I'm sorry that you lost him, especially the way that you did. I know we don't have much of a relationship, but I'm here. You wouldn't be going through this had your mother and I been there…"

"Oh come on," she rolled her eyes. "It isn't your fault I got pregnant, Chester. There's nothing you or my mother could've done or said to prevent me from having sex. It would've been nice if we had stayed in New York and I never would've had to meet the guy, so I guess, yeah, for that, you earn major blame points."

"I'm worried about you, okay?" he snapped, giving her shoulders a little shake.

"Don't be," she shook away his touch. Her voice softened and she rewarded his concern, phony as she figured it was, with a small smile. "I'm straight."

"Yeah, Robin. Whenever my abandonment issues start trying to control my life and I do something stupid to make the people I love notice me, I'm always straight."

"If you're implying that I'm mad at my dad for dying and that I got pregnant to spite the world, you're being melodramatic. I had sex and reproduced. That's it. I'm not mad at my dad, but you are."

Chester scoffed and folded his arms. "Really?"

Robin leaned against the wall for support, bringing her hands to her hair and tying it in a loose bun. "Yeah, I don't—come on, I don't blame you, I know it's hard having a wife that makes most of her decisions based on guilt stemming from her relationship with her psycho ex."

"And your point?"

"I'm just, I'm just saying that whatever place my dad has in her head, you're in her heart. And you don't have to worry about my dad. She loves you, not him."

"That, Champ, was a brilliant diversion. You got your mother's brains along with her looks, but you still haven't answered my question."

"Chester, I'm not hanging around her to meet my next baby daddy. I'm not selling heroin to little kids, okay? I'm here to get to know my father's illness and how it effects Elliot and Olivia's young'un, so I'm meeting people, and I'm asking questions and doing research. And yeah, I've been lying about my whereabouts, but that's because I wanted to do this on my own. That's all that's been going on."

He sighed and rested a supportive hand on her shoulder. "No it isn't, but I hope whatever it is that you're getting into helps you miss Charlie a little less because it's hard having unanswered questions about your parents."

"Thank you Ches—Stepdad. Thanks," Robin nodded and cleared her throat. "So, what brings you here? Speed dating Saturday? 'Cause you know, I would love it if I had some good dirt on you."

"Ha, you wish. I'm actually here to get the roster from Ned and Liam's baseball team to see if there's anyone we forgot to invite to the party tomorrow. If you stick around for a few minutes I'll give you a ride back."

"Thanks, you know, for everything."

"Don't mention it."

_Your mind is in disturbia_

_It's like the darkness is the light…_

* * *

_I gotta get out or figure this shit out_

_It's too close for comfort…_

"Well, I for one am happy about Robin's pregnancy," JR Novak slapped his little cousin on the shoulder and leaned against the armchair she was so desperately trying to blend in with. "I might be the gay one that lives on an organic apple farm in the Bay Area, but at least I'm not having a baby out of wedlock. Thank you, Robin, for rising to the occasion and elevating my status in this family."

Robin rolled her eyes. "Gee, when I'm pushing it out of my vag, I'll remember the saintly sacrifice I made for you and I'll be so overwhelmed with joy that I won't need the epidural."

Robin never understood why Lillian Novak, all of her sons, their significant others and children had to come up for Liam's birthday. Lillian claimed it was because she was getting old and the summer was a perfect time for a little family reunion; Liam's birthday was just an added bonus.

Everyone knew that was only a cover. Truth was Casey's brothers didn't trust Chester, especially after his stint on the other side of the law, and used Liam's birthday to remind their baby sister's husband how quick and easy it was to get to him. By any means necessary, they would protect their sister. Chester knew it, the Novak boys signed it in a card and gave it to him on his wedding day.

Now Clayton the father, Deacon, Jimmy, Wesley, Lucky, their mother and Clayton's two sons were spread out in Casey's family room, offering various opinions about her teenage daughter's pregnancy.

"All jokes aside," Clayton the son continued. "Attacking her isn't going to make this go away. Robin isn't the first one in this family to get pregnant at a young age and she probably won't be the last. We should be rallying for her, not against her."

"I was eighteen when I had your father," Lillian spoke up from the couch, in between Deacon and Wesley. "I had also been responsible for my five younger siblings from the time I was Georgie's age. I came from a place and from a family where that was my only option. Yes, Robin's played babysitter every now and then. So what? She has no real parenting experience and she has such a bright future ahead of her."

"So you married grandpa because he was the only thing there?" Robin asked.

"No, I married him because I was seventeen and pregnant and that's how we handled things."

"And speaking of marriage," Deacon growled. "Who is this…this _boy _that got you into this…this situation in the first place?"

Robin sank further into her chair and rested both hands on her belly. "He's no longer in the picture."

"Well that little sum'bitch's about to have a starring role," Jimmy declared, downing the last of his beer in a swift pour. "I'm gonna have it out with his folks and we're gonna do this thing right!"

"Okay, first of all, you can put your Captain Redneck cape back on the rack, Uncle Jimbo. Neither of us want him to be in the baby's life and that's the way it is, all right?"

"Well who is the kid, anyway?" Wesley asked softly. He was never one to raise his voice. He was one of those silent, but deadly types. Just as noxious and room emptying as the flatulence species of the same name.

"Does it matter?"

"Do you even know?" Travis deadpanned.

"Wow," Robin narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you sure you wanna go there? I mean, what's my news, next to yours?"

Travis glared, but shut his mouth nonetheless.

"Did you _do_ this on purpose?"

"Ha, yeah Aunt Cheryl Anne, it's every girl's dream to spend her freshman year of college blowing up like a Sunday turkey and projectile puking like a sprinkler system on a golf course."

"And speaking of college," Deacon pushed. "What about your full ride? What about Columbia and your future?"

"I'm not running off to join a brothel, Uncle Deak. I'm having a baby and the last time I checked, that wasn't a crime. And I'm taking a leave of absence this semester and since the baby will be born a few weeks before the start of the spring semester, I'll have enough time to rest up before starting classes."

"I still say you and that boy need to get married. A baby needs two parents, Robin."

Robin turned to her mother who had been silently leaning against the bookshelf the entire time. "So was this how it was when you were pregnant with Georgie and I? You let these people harangue you until you caved and agreed to live the life they designed for you? And Uncle Jimbo, for all your crap about a kid needing two parents, why were you all for keeping Georgie and I away from my dad and his family?"

"Hmm, let's see, because your father was a schizophrenic that spent most nights beating the daylights out of your mother and screaming at walls? Gee, I wonder why I wanted to keep my nieces away from him and the people who made him that way…"

"Okay, okay, we're obviously approaching this wrong," Lucky pulled himself up from the loveseat and crossed the room to be closer to the armchair. He kneeled down in front of Robin and took her hand, tossing it up and down like pizza dough. "Robin, have you thought about this?"

"I have Uncle Lucky, I have a lot. I don't need an insta-family and neither does this baby. I don't want the kid to resent me for sticking it in a phony family that resents it for taking a bite out of my dreams. I can't raise it. I don't know how. I don't know very much about myself and what I do know, I don't like. I know what it's like to feel unwanted and unworthy, even when my parents weren't trying to make me feel that way. Knowing that, why would I turn around and put that crap on a innocent kid?"

"Adoption," JR folded his arms and nodded. "You're giving it up."

"Yeah."

"So you're sure about this? No second thoughts?" Lucky asked.

"None. This is what's bestt for me, but more importantly it's best for the baby."

"Then that's good enough for me," Lucky turned and made a point of meeting the eyes of everyone in his family. "And it should be good enough for all of you. This is Robin's body and it's her baby. We should respect and love her enough to stand by her, no matter what choice she makes."

"Robin, no," Deacon shook his head. "Adoption? You have a family, a family that would stick by you and your child. Why would you want to keep it from us? That's Grandma-Nana's first great-grandchild, why would you deny her the privilege of getting to know him or her?"

"I agree with Lucky," Lillian glanced at Deacon and back at Robin. "We all have our opinions and we're entitled to them, but that's all they are, opinions. At the end of the day this is Robin's choice and though I wouldn't make it, I'm proud of her and I love her and I won't stand in her way."

"Thanks Grandma Nana."

"Now that you've heard the politically correct response: Robin, how could you do this to us? How could you do that to yourself? That baby is your flesh and blood, our flesh and blood and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you turn it over to any Tom, Dick, and Harry that needs a kid!"

"Her telling you about her decision was a courtesy, Jimmy," Casey spoke for the first time. "Now you made your case and she listened. The end."

"And you agree with this?" Jimmy fumed. "You're gonna stand by and let your daughter keep her child away from you and this family?"

"This isn't a family!" Robin shouted, though her head instantly chastised her for it. "It's just a flock of vultures with expensive carcasses!"

"Yeah well, that baby is a one of our eggs and we'll protect it at all costs."

"Look, Jimmy, Robin made this decision and it has and continues to take a lot out of her. It wasn't easy for her, but she's doing what any mother would and we all need to respect that."

"Where's all this sudden devotion coming from, Casey?" Jimmy wondered aloud. "After she was released from that convalescent home, you threw her and Georgie on Lucky and you went back to work. Your girls, especially Robin, needed you and what did you do? You went back to helping other people's children and left your kids to somebody else."

"Back off James," Lillian warned.

"Don't you see it, Mama?" Jimmy racked his hand through his black hair and turned his sharp, demanding green eyes on his mother. "She hardly gave Robin any support after the accident and now she's trying to make up for _years_ worth of failure by agreeing with the worst decision she's ever made."

"Lay off my mom," she shifted in her chair and turned to look her mother in the eye. "I got pregnant because I had sex and the condom didn't work. It isn't her fault and she should know that."

"Well since your mother is such a good mother, why didn't she know you were out spreading your legs on general principle?"

"Jimmy! You're _way_ outta line here!" Clayton reached for his little brother's arm, but Jimmy just snatched it away.

"Rein it in Jimmy or I'll do it for you," Wesley said evenly without bothering to get up.

"I don't wanna hear this," Robin moved to stand, but her uncle wouldn't have any of it.

"You're not going anywhere until this is done right."

"What's right for my daughter is what's right for you and it's what's right for me and you're gonna shut up, sit down, and deal with it."

At that point, Chester pushed open the door to the family room, grass stains all over his t-shirt from the refereeing the tackle football game between his sons and Lucky's two boys. "What's going on in here? We can hear you from the backyard."

"I'm exporting precious Novak genes and it's my mother's fault. Got anything to add?"

"She's had enough people in her ear already," Deacon glared at his sister's husband. "So why don't you go back to being Mr. Mom and leave this to her family."

"Well, I'm here anyway," Chester closed the door and moved to stand next to his wife. "Robin, if you want to give your baby up for adoption, your mother and I have your back."

"You know, nobody asked you. I'm just trying to look out for a kid…"

"Then go work for UNICEF and leave my stepdaughter alone."

"What your 'stepdaughter's' doing…"

"Is what? Being strong and thoughtful enough to make a decision for her child that you and some of the people that she loves don't agree with? By making a choice and going out of her way to weigh the consequences for not only herself, but for another human being? It's called being brave and honorable, Jimmy. I thought they taught you all about that in the Marines, _Colonel_. Now why don't you get the hell out of my house and go back to South Carolina and on your way back, go dive into another bottle."

Jimmy stiffened. "I'm in a program, if you all bothered to notice."

"Oh, yeah, we can see you now James," Lillian narrowed her blue eyes, her lips in a thin, unforgiving line. "We can see real good."

Robin stood up and glared at her family, though she could hardly see them through the tears. "I'm going to my room and I don't wanna be disturbed."

"You should be ashamed of yourself," Lucky shoved his brother when the door slammed.

"I'll go talk to her."

Chester moved to leave, but Lucky grabbed his shoulder. "Now, we're all grateful for you standing up for our niece, but we still don't trust you. We won't have any of that Woody Allen crap going on around here."

"You always have to go that one step too far," Casey rolled her eyes.

"Chester knows I'm just teasing," Lucky grinned and nudged his brother-in-law. "Ain't that right?"

"Hey, uh, Chester," Jimmy called out, more to the floor than the man across from him. "Do you think…would you tell Robin that I'm sorry? I didn't mean to hurt her. I just got carried away with my beliefs, you know how that is."

Chester nodded and left the room. Yes, he knew how that was.

_It's a thief in the night to come and grab you_

_It can creep up inside you and consume you_

_A disease of the mind, it can control you_

_I feel like a monster_

_Put on your break lights_

_We're in the city of wonder_

_Ain't gonna play nice…_

* * *

_Release me from this curse I'm in_

_Trying to remain tame_

_But I'm struggling…_

Robin shot daggers at her bedroom door as the clumsy pounding disguised as knocking tugged her from her self-made pool of self-pity. She said nothing as the door pushed open and Chester stepped in, all smiles and kind brown eyes.

"You okay?"

"Peachy. What do you want?"

"You shouldn't have had to hear any of that."

"If you came up here to state the obvious, you can go."

He shut the door and leaned against it. "Your uncle was wrong and if there's any truth in what he said, if you're giving up your baby to spite your mother and the rest of your family, then you need to just take some time and think on this some more."

Robin sighed and brought her hands up behind her head, leaning against her headboard. "I'm doing the only thing I can do to save this kid."

"Save it from what, Robin?"

"Chester, look, I'm grateful that you came to my defense down there. I know I don't deserve your support, not after the way I've treated you. And yeah, we had a bonding moment, but you and I aren't friends. You aren't gonna do my nails and I'm not gonna spill my guts to you. Understand?"

Chester nodded. "You know I spent my life in foster care…"

"Yeah. Mom mentioned it. She said that's why you had no family at the wedding."

"When I found out my mom and my dad gave me up for adoption, I was furious. I hated them—I hated the world, hated myself for being so unlovable that my parents didn't want me. It took me years to get past all of that—years of screwing up my life, years of tearing apart my world and hoping to take my parents along with me. My mother could've had an abortion. It would've been easier and I'm sure nobody would've blamed her if she did. She didn't and I'm here and for the most part, I'm happy. I have a wife and four kids and I wouldn't trade you guys for anything."

"I don't want this kid growing up being angry like you were. That's why I want Elliot and Olivia to raise it. Do you see the way they look at each other? She adores his kids and they adore her and not a drop of her blood is in their veins. This kid deserves parents that are loving and committed, not some crazy teenage ice queen with a chip on her shoulder. This kid doesn't even have to know me. I just want it to be happy."

Chester gasped and rubbed the side of his cheek with the palm of his hand. "That's why Elliot and Olivia are so hesitant. It all makes sense now. You're severing all of your rights, aren't you? Does Casey…"

"No! No, she doesn't know and you aren't going to tell her. I'll tell her when I'm ready. Promise me you won't say anything."

He groaned and turned the doorknob. "I won't tell her, but you need to and you need to do it fast."

* * *

Morning found Casey, Chester, Robin, Georgie and Ned hovering over Liam's Mustang shaped bed. Casey held out a small chocolate cake with five neon blue candles in the center. It was a tradition, started off by Casey and Robin, to have a tiny celebration in the birthday person's bedroom, mini cake and all.

Georgie leaned in and used Chester's Zippo to light the candles—five for every year of his life, Liam reminded them—and while the flames danced, they all sang 'Happy Birthday', finishing the song with a chorus of applause. Liam made a show of making his wish, tucking his fist under his chin and tilting his head to the side. He huffed and puffed, blowing out his candles and spitting on Ned. They clapped again and took the pieces Chester had cut, and after diving into and praising the spongy goodness, everyone went off to prepare for the party.

Robin blamed her tears on the humidity and Casey let it go, reminding her daughter that she was there. Robin nodded and retreated back to her room. She closed the door, slid down the wall and cried because she and her baby would never share the tradition.

* * *

"Eli!" Ned and Liam squealed in unison as they pushed open the front door and tore down the walkway, making a beeline for Eli Stabler and his parents, Elliot and Olivia.

"Hi," Eli smiled shyly and gave a short wave. "Happy birthday, Liam."

"Thanks!" he grinned brightly and pointed to the blue bag in tucked tightly under his friend's arm. "Is that for me? What is it?"

"You're not 'posed to ask that, _William_," Ned shoved his brother's shoulder and flashed an embarrassed glance at the Stablers. "He doesn't know any better."

"Don't tell me what to do and don't call me William, _Edward!"_

Elliot and Olivia exchanged glances and chuckled.

"No 'hello' for us?" Elliot asked, feigning hurt.

Ned and Liam threw their arms around Mr. and Mrs. Stabler and grinned, both missing their two front teeth.

"Thanks for coming all the way here for my birthday.

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Olivia ruffled his hair.

"All the old people are in the house," Ned took her hand and led her towards the door. "My mom's in the kitchen finishing the potato salad."

"Casey's cooking?"

"She bought it, Uncle Elliot," Liam reassured. "It would be really bad if my friends died at my party. We might get sued."

When they entered the living room, they found Lucky singing to his three-month-old daughter Lucy, his off key singing earning him more screaming than crying.

Ned and Liam grimaced. Lucy had been screaming since she woke up from her nap, three hours ago.

"This is our Uncle Lucky," Ned sparked up the introductions, ever the polite one. "His real name's Lukas, but nobody calls him that but the bill people and Grandma Nana when she's mad. And the pink ball of screaming is our new cousin Lucy."

"Nice to see you again," Lucky shouted over his daughter. He made eye contact with both Stablers, though he was speaking more to Olivia.

"You already know each other?"

"We met at your parents wedding," Elliot smiled and took Lucky's free, outstretched hand. "It's been awhile, five years maybe?"

"That's about right," Lucky turned his blue eyes on Eli, who had decided the acoustics were better behind Ned and Liam. "Nice to see you again too Eli. What are you now, seven?"

He nodded, digging his tennis shoes into the carpet.

"He's a little shy," Olivia explained. She glanced over at Lucy, who was still doing her best Teena Marie impression. "Somebody isn't too happy."

"I've fed her, changed her and gave her one of those organic lavender oatmeal baths that Casey swears is natural generic infant Valium, but it seems like Lucy's as stubborn as all the other female Novaks."

The words were out of her mouth before she could think about them. "Mind if I give it a go? You look like you could use a break."

"You kidding? Maybe you'll do a better job," Lucky practically ran over and as he gently leaned his youngest child into Olivia's open arms, Lucky's body briefly touched Mrs. Stabler's. It was the first touch they had exchanged in years, and Lucky felt a sudden discharge of electricity meander its way through his body.

And then the instant physical connection faded, as did the memory Lucky was about to get lost in, and Olivia was smiling into Lucy Novak's blue eyes. "She's so beautiful," Olivia said softly, already patting the infant's back. "She reminds me of Georgie."

"Georgie's all Charlie now," Lucky surprisingly kept his tone even. "But yeah, when she was little, she was the spitting image of Casey."

"She looks like you," Olivia brushed her hand over Lucy's head, the baby's red peach fuzz tickling her hands. Lucy's cries had subdued to a soft hiccup, earning her praises from Lucky and his nephews.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Elliot open his mouth to speak. Before he could say anything, before she could hand Lucky the one thing she really wanted, Chester Lake's laughter bounced off the walls. He tumbled into the room followed by the whoop and clatter of Lucky's two sons, Lennox and Lance.

"She's quiet," Lennox turned his astonished blue eyes on the strange, but miracle working lady holding his baby sister. "You must have super powers."

"Or she's the next Mary Poppins," Chester said. "Glad you guys could make it. Come on, we're just about to start a game of two hand touch. Elliot, I could use your sharp eyes. You were always good at spotting other people's mistakes."

Elliot rolled his eyes at the dig, but followed Chester and the boys out. He shot one last glance at Olivia, who was too enthralled with Lucky's daughter to notice the hesitation in her husband's eyes.

"Hand me that bottle over there," Olivia snapped her fingers in the direction of the coffee table. She eased herself onto the couch, careful not to re-upset Lucy. She took the bottle of formula from an awed Lucky's hand and adjusted Lucy to her chest. Placing the bottle in the baby's mouth, Olivia made sure she was comfortable before looking up at Lucky. "So, is it still a Novak tradition to name girls after their fathers?"

"Lucy's short for Lucille. She's name after BB King's famous guitar. My wife was obsessed with Blues, and Mr. King was no exception. I figured it was something my wife would have wanted."

Olivia's eyes softened and unconsciously, she gripped Lucy a little tighter. "She died giving birth to Lucy, didn't she?"

He just nodded.

"Oh Lucky, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I'm sorry everyday and the sorrier I get, the more I realize how much Lydia took with her."

Both adults remained quiet. Olivia fed and burped Lucy while Lucky watched. He led her into Casey and Chester's room and watched again as Olivia laid his daughter into Pack-N-Play and kissed her forehead.

He felt a surge of anger. He knew death was a natural part of life. People died and people were born and sometimes those complicated, divine acts happened simultaneously. What did life care if a man lost his wife and a baby lost her mother before she knew her? What did the pattern of human mortality care if two boys were already starting to realize that they could hardly smell their mother's scent on her clothes anymore? What did fate care if the woman that he mulled over from the day he met her was great with his daughter?

What did he care if she was married?

_Put on your break lights_

_We're in the city of wonder_

_Ain't gonna play nice_

_Watch out, you might just go under_

_Better think twice_

_Your train of thought will be altered_

_So if you must falter be wise..._

* * *

A few hours and a few plates of food later, Olivia and Casey were in the kitchen, laughing and talking. Casey's hands and arms submerged in soapy water and Olivia applying elbow grease to the stove, both women were enjoying each other's company.

Until Olivia made the mistake of asking about the baby.

"The baby's healthy according to Robin's last check up," Casey said, placing a cast-iron skillet on the drying wrack. "We make sure Robin's eating right and taking vitamins and since the girl already think she's the next Denise Austin, you know she's getting plenty of exercise."

Olivia scrunched up her nose. "Why do I sense a 'but' coming?"

"Because you have killer instincts," Casey whirled around to face her closest friend. "I know this a no-no subject at the moment, but as you know being tactful isn't one of my strong suits." She sucked in a breathe of Virginia's hummid air and exhaled. "Have you and Elliot come to a decision about adopting the baby? I want you to know that I'm not asking to pry, but outta concern for my kid. She had a horrible panic attack last night. She's got so much riding on this and the stress the comes with the wait isn't good for her or the baby."

"No pressure, right?" Olivia smiled.

"None what so ever."

"Elliot and I…this is difficult for us…we understand Robin's reasoning, but we can't…we can't base our family on a lie."

"Wait…slow down there. What lie?"

Olivia gave her a long look. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Olivia, listen to me carefully. I've been dealing with screaming children all under the age of eight, I've been listening to my husband and brothers how like crack addicted werewolves as they watch shrieking boys under six tackle each other, and my two daughters are allergic to housework," she held out her hand, counting out each scenario on her long, pale fingers. "I really don't have the energy to solve the puzzle or buy a vowel, so please just tell me."

"Adopting the baby is not the issue. Completely cutting him or her off from its biological mother however…"

Casey massaged her temples with the pads of her fingers. "Robin wants a closed adoption?"

"Not only does Robin not want any updates on the kid as it grows up, but she doesn't want the kid to have any updates on her. In fact, she doesn't want it to know that she exists."

_Disturbia_

_Disturbia_

* * *

**A/N: **Of course, the song in this chapter is Rihanna's _Disturbia. _I heard it and I knew I had to use it. It's on the playlist.

So, updates: I can't promise you I'll be updating in a timely way. My writer's block has ebbed, but I have a lot of assignments coming up so time is limited. I'll try to update Favorite Worst Nightmare too.

Thanks for reading folks.

**Next time: **Liam's party ends. Casey confronts Robin about her decision. Robin goes to Taylor and Jason for advice and while in New York, runs into Brandon and Lulu (not the Lulu from FWN, but the girl she met at the hospital after Casey was attacked.)


	6. Chimera

**A/N: **I haven't updated this in over two months. Sorry. Serious case of writer's block and plot insecurity and I'm sure you all know how that is.

I've got some thanks to give:

**L.A. Lights. (Zip): **Thanks for listening to me run my gob and helping me out of my plot hole. You're awesome.

**Plus de ma vie (Vie): **I owe you a shout out for the last chapter and beyond: Thanks for giving me the names Lucy and Lydia. If not for you, I'd still be twiddling my thumbs trying to find those two characters names. You too, are awesome.

Without further ado, I bring you...

* * *

**Chapter Six: Chimera**

Casey found Robin in the family room sitting on the couch, her legs drawn up under her, and a book pressed to her nose. Georgie's head was nestled against her big sister's chest, her abundant crop of red curls blanketing Robin's chin. She too had a book at her nose, a music book. Georgie would probably take up another song soon. Casey cringed at the thought.

The orange light of the sun spilled through the windows, making the room hot and its air thick. Casey flicked off the droplets of sweat before they could swell and cleared her throat. Georgie noticed her first and immediately brought Guitar for Dummies down to her lap. She nudged Robin who surfaced from her black and white world, though not as quickly or as eagerly as Georgie.

"You've been summoned," Casey managed to squeeze into the small space her girls had left on the couch and glanced at Georgie. "According to Ned you 'own the world of Madden' and he thinks you can help him take the Jets to the playoffs."

"Me and children?" The nine-year-old jabbed her thumb against her chest and scrunched up her freckled nose. "No siree, Bob. That's not my job. It's enough that the house is infested with the creatures, but to ask me to mingle with them? That's just too much."

"Gee, the nerve of Liam wanting to have his friends at his birthday party," Casey rolled her eyes.

"My friends didn't harass you guys during my party."

Robin scoffed without even looking up. "Having midget versions of Tilly and the Wall over for Janis Joplin karaoke and organic cake doesn't exactly qualify as a party."

"Neither does being knocked up at seventeen, but who's counting?"

Robin shook her head and grinned, finally looking up. "And you didn't hesitate! Excellent job. I'm gonna have to stay on my toes around you, Scout. Seems as though you've been-a-practicin'."

"I am but a grasshopper," As Georgie stumbled to her feet and bowed, Casey swore she heard a gong.

Casey flipped a glance at Robin. "You've made it your mission to turn my nine-year-old into an abrasive shrew?"

"I do care about other people's feelings," Georgie poked out her bottom lip. "And I'm not _that_ aggressive."

"See," Robin nudged her mother, flashing a smirk of conspiratorial gallantry. "I've improved her vocabulary too."

Robin had eased off the couch and now both girls were standing in front of their mother. An awkward silence passed over them and the heat throbbed against their bare arms, refusing to be forgotten. Suddenly, as if she were a magnet, Casey propelled off the couch and toward her daughters, engulfing them in her arms. Georgie squeezed back, but Robin seemed to weigh the gesture before wrapping her arms around her mother.

Casey let go and two pairs of eyes, one green and one blue, stared at her with the same pensive stare that reminded the world that they were hers. She could see herself in them—wide green eyes here, red hair there, when Georgie would crumple up her brow and ball up her lips when she was upset, or when Robin's pride and obstinate nature declined her the right to cry.

She saw Charlie too, especially when Georgie smiled or Robin flicked her bottom lip when she was submerged in thought. She was beginning to see Charlie more in their eldest daughter and that scared her.

Charlie's mind had been beautiful before it turned on him. He was a special man and his spontaneous personality added flare to the lives of those around him. However, Charlie painted the world in black and white, refusing to see it any other way. His actions were thoughtful, though his logic was plagued with holes and the people he loved were often swallowed by the consequences of his decisions.

Like her father, Robin was clumsy and cautious, over thinking and often under weighing. She was secretive at best and though she tried to hide it, fear and rage bubbled in Robin's eyes—it was only a matter of time before they spilled over.

"That was random," Georgie frowned. "And you're staring."

"And you're still in here."

"Okay, okay, I'm going."

"What's eating you?" Robin asked after Georgie shut the door. Instead of returning to the couch, she scooped up her book and plopped into her favorite armchair.

Casey slanted her a look.

"If you're trying to spark up a game of charades I'm totally uninterested."

"You're pushing a closed adoption."

The words came out like frozen molasses, unwilling and hesitant, not wanting to branch out from the safe place where they'd been bottled.

Mother and daughter were silent for a time before Robin met her mother's eyes. "Chester told you," she said evenly.

"Olivia did."

Robin sucked in her bottom lip and closed her eyes. Without opening them, she waved the conversation forward. "If you're gonna yell, please, just get it over with."

"I'm not going to yell at you," Casey folded her hands and placed them to her lap. She slowly rocked herself back and forth, seeking comfort in an uncomfortable situation. "I just don't understand…"

"Mom, if this kid gets to know me and sees me everyday, it's going to figure out that I didn't want it. Why would I want to rub that in their face? The kid would grow up with two loving parents and siblings and not have to sit around resenting the selfish bitch that gave them up."

"You can't control how someone feels, Robin."

"I know that," she ran her fingers through her hair and groaned. "I know that, but how can a child hate its mother if it doesn't know who she is?"

"Every child wonders where they came from. You were full of questions about Charlie and even though the picture wasn't pretty, I didn't lie to you. It would be unfair to put Elliot and Olivia in that position. What do you expect them to say when their son or daughter starts asking questions?"

Robin shrugged. "They can tell them the truth. Their mother was really young when she got pregnant and she knew she couldn't be a good mother so she gave them to a family that would see them as a gift from whatever deity they serve and any other flowery details they see fit."

"Are you—you're serious. Elliot and Olivia are my closest friends. Ned, Liam, and Eli are as inseparable as three people can be while living hundreds of miles away. Ned and Liam would certainly remember you being pregnant and they'll remember Elliot and Olivia adopting the baby. Do you expect your brothers to just pretend like this never happened? Or what about when the kid realizes how much they look like me instead of Elliot and Olivia? No child should ever have to grow up surrounded by that kind of lie and you can't ask the people who love you to keep it up. It's selfish and it's cruel and the truth will come out and it'll not only resent you, but its entire family. Then what happens?"

Robin remained silent. Casey's speech hung above her like the moon, illuminating things she did not know were there.

It had only been the four of them: Elliot, Olivia, the baby and herself. Nobody else mattered. Robin always managed to forget the world and even though she avoided the uncertainty it held, it was always shaking her awake.

Robin licked her lips and ran her fingers through her black helmet of hair. "Is it—is it worse than having the child know that it wasn't wanted? Or that it has a mother that's too unstable to raise it?"

Casey opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. She tasted Robin's words and furrowed her brow as if she didn't like the flavor of them. "Robin…" her voice was gentle and surprisingly controlled, as though she were coaxing a kitten from a tree. "You're not your father."

And then, as if summoned to prove his ex fiancé wrong, Charles Katsaros dripped into the room and lowered himself onto the couch. His sad blue eyes whipped in Robin's direction, their heat so intense she could feel her resolve singe.

Robin swallowed and closed her eyes, but opened them quickly when she felt the scrutiny of her mother's gaze. Her heart picked up its pace, slamming into her ribs and pilfering her breath.

He never came during the day. Always at night. Always.

Robin's body wanted to run, but her mind wasn't for the idea. She couldn't let anybody know what was wrong. It was as if Charlie was punishing her for her little slip. It was as if he was reminding her that she had nowhere to go.

She brought her hands up to the lapels of her hoodie up and gripped them with sweaty palms. She knew faking composure wasn't going to fix anything, but it was better than her mother knowing the truth. It was better than making everything real.

Casey was by her daughter's side in an instant. She grimaced as she gathered Robin's sweaty palms in her own and watched as the girl desperately tried to navigate her way through her turbulent breaths.

"Are you having another panic attack?" Casey's voice was soft and easy. Robin didn't understand why she was so afraid of her mother's voice, but it wasn't helping, and she was too terrified to wonder why.

Robin swallowed the urge to dig a hole in her mind and never come out. She smiled a smile that left her eyes hollow like a jack-o-lantern that had been left out past Halloween.

"Yeah," she fidgeted in her chair. "They've been getting worse."

"Okay, okay," Casey nodded. "Have you spoken to Dr. Whittaker about this?"

Robin stiffened at the mention of her former shrink. After the accident, at the behest of the convalescent home, Robin saw a therapist twice a week to help with the trauma of her subsequent amnesia and physical injuries. After Charlie died, Dr. Whittaker's office morphed into a second home. When she packed up her practice and moved it to Baltimore, Falls Church's newest resident and her mother happily drove the thirty minutes in rush hour traffic to get to the new office. Just before her sixteenth birthday, Robin and her beloved psychiatrist agreed that she had come a long way and her visits could be shortened to once a month. Once a month turned to every two weeks and when she turned seventeen, her sessions stopped all together. She got pregnant five months later.

Dina Whittaker would see right through Robin's façade and she would want to know everything. If her father didn't like it when she told her mother, she didn't know what he would do if she regurgitated her psychosis to a professional.

"I can call her, if that's okay," Casey looked at her daughter casually, but her green eyes were saturated with concern.

Robin noticed the narrowness of her mother's eyes and she realized Casey was trying to solve the puzzle. She dusted away Casey's hands and stood up, turning around to face her mother. Robin shook her head. "No, I'll call her myself."

Robin left the room with two sets of eyes, one green and one blue, branding her back.

_Now you see you're breaking up again_

_Now you see you're slowly going insane_

_You don't even know your face or name_

_Stand up now we've got to break this chain_

* * *

_Now do you see the feeling in your eyes?_

_Do you know the things that make you cry?_

_There are things that money just won't buy_

_Wake up now you got to trust and try _

The smell of hickory enveloped the entire backyard. Eli, Ned, Liam, and Lucky's two boys were helping themselves to dinner, swallowing messy mouthfuls of Chester's ribs and Casey's store-bought potato salad between arguing about who would be the next captains of their backyard football teams.

Lucky Novak was helping himself to Elliot Stabler's wife.

That wasn't fair and Elliot knew it, but life was never known to act in accordance with rules or standards.

Neither were Novaks.

Elliot watched with narrowed eyes as Olivia fed Lucky's daughter, holding Lucy to her chest as if she were the only thing that mattered. Olivia and the baby sat in one of the lawn chairs while Lucky stood over them, the two adults smiling down at the pink bundle. The perfect family.

He never would've pegged Olivia Benson as gullible, not in a million years. Yet she actually thought Lucky's hand was on her shoulder because she was holding his daughter. Or maybe she knew and just didn't care. Maybe she was so hungry for what he had, for who he had, that she had completely disengaged from her own reality and immersed herself in his. Lucy's warm little body, her gurgles, and soft scent—an analgesic, a dream.

Then he saw it. The wistful smile that curved Oliva's lips and trickled into her eyes. The hot Virginia sun slapped his face, as if he had done something wrong. He had sinned. He resented an innocent baby and his wife.

The hand on his shoulder was apparently there for comfort and despite his best efforts he resented that too.

When he turned around, Casey angled her head towards Lucky and Olivia who seemed to be engaged in a heated debate over Lucy napping in the sun. Elliot groaned at the spectacle and Casey just shrugged.

"He's faithful to Lydia's memory and she's devoted to you," she said flatly. "Babies get the best of us all."

He blinked, nodded, and turned to really look at her. Elliot arched a shaggy brown brow and folded his broad arms. "Wanna talk about it?"

She scoffed. "Am I really that obvious?"

He chuckled and took her arm, leading her toward the sliding glass patio doors that lead to the kitchen.

They settled in the family room, which had, if only for it's closable door, become a miniature conference room. Elliot on the couch and Casey in Robin's favorite armchair, the two sat quietly as they drowned themselves in their own thoughts.

Elliot's blue gaze swept the room, turning in a slow circle, across the family portraits and childhood drawings, taking in weddings and school years and colorful scribbles. His eyes crashed into a recent picture of all four of Casey's children on the coffee table. Robin and Georgie in the back, Ned and Liam in the front, Robin's arm around her little sister, Ned and Liam in matching outfits.

"Robin was taller than Georgie at this age," he kept his eyes on the picture.

"Huh?" she lifted her cheek from the palm it had been resting on and followed his eyes to the frame now in his hands. Her smile was almost mechanical, her voice an absent murmur. "Oh, yeah, the women in Charlie's family are short. It's funny, what kids get from their parents."

He shifted his left leg over his right and rested his elbow on his knee. When she got in her one of her…moods…Elliot knew it was best to let her get through it.

"When I legally barred Charlie from having contact with Robin and Georgie without allowing Robin to say goodbye, you told me I'd regret it, that it was a mistake, and you were absolutely right. She never got to know Charlie, never got to understand him. So, what does she do? She makes him a martyr and lives her life in tune with the one she thinks he had. Moving here, taking her away from the people who could answer her questions was like giving somebody with gout a family size bag of Lays. So, Mr. Sickeningly Self Righteous, you were right. Go ahead, rub it in."

He furrowed his brow and flashed a thin, dismal line of a smile. "That was experience talking. My mother and I…we're complicated. There were things about her—are things about her—that I will never understand. Partly because I just can't, but for the most part I never got the opportunity. I hated her, hated myself for it. I didn't want Robin to go down that ugly road."

"Should've listened," she scoffed. "Now she thinks abandoning this baby is the only way to 'save' it. Save it from what? I'll never know."

"I tried to stop it, but she's your kid. She's as stubborn as a mule and she'll destroy anything that gets in her way, herself included."

She narrowed her eyes. "You know, when I want your opinion, I'll cross examine it out of you," she smiled when he let out a full, unrestrained laugh. "I guess I can't fault the kid. She came by her iron will and steel determination from both sides of the blanket."

"She's just scared, give her some time, she'll come to her senses."

"You think she's making a mistake, agreeing to a closed adoption?"

"I do, but what do you think and what have you told her?"

"Deacon and Jimmy exploded into tiny pieces at the sheer mention of adoption. Me? I love the idea of you and Olivia adopting the baby. You guys are family and I trust you with my life and with the lives of my kids. At some point that child's gonna want something you two can't give—answers. The confusion, the fear, the hurt…Robin's trying to subject her kid to that pain…and no matter how hard I try, I can't get behind that."

Elliot nodded. "You think she'll regret this?"

"Oh, she's already regretting it. She's having panic attacks, severe ones. Unfortunately, Robin's practically an adult and this is an adult decision, a decision her mommy can't make for her. I just wanna save her from a lifetime of regret, regret that will never go away."

"Playing devil's advocate ain't my style, but a life without regret is one that probably hasn't been lived. We don't always choose the burdens we carry, but we get to decide the ones we leave behind. Come on," he stood up and walked over to the armchair, extending his hand. "Go cut your boy's cake."

The two friends walked out of the family room, Elliot's hand at the small of Casey's back, both unaware of two narrowed blue eyes lurking behind the bookshelf.

* * *

"You're really good with her."

Lucky and Olivia looked up to find Robin standing in front of them, staring down at the sleeping baby in Olivia's arms. She smiled at them benignly, nervously smushing a stray curl behind her ear and biting her lower lip. Reaching out, she brought her hand to stroke Lucy's head, but snatched her arm back to her side. Robin cleared her throat, her eyes darting like a hummingbird between her uncle and aunt.

"Hey Robin," Olivia used her free hand to touch the girl's arm. "I haven't seen much of you all day."

"What can I say," she shrugged. "Family gatherings ain't my bag, baby. And speaking of babies," she shifted on her feet apprehensively, her hand hovering over her ever-expanding stomach. "I thought you might like to know how this one is doing."

At Lucky's curious look, a timid expression spread itself cross Robin's face, but she quickly jostled it away. She smiled, chuckled a little, and kept her eyes on her shoes.

Olivia, who had a knack for diagnosing discomfort, took Robin's shaking hand in her own, and deemed herself the cure. Her voice soft as early rain, she ran the pads of her fingers over Robin's knuckles as she spoke. "I'd love to."

Robin laughed again as she eased her hand away, her confidence back. She pitched her eyes at Lucky, who was still trying to understand, before returning her attention to Olivia.

"Well…I've been gravid for four months, as you know. Apparently the kid's about the length of a mascara bottle and it already knows how to yawn. It grimaces too, which will come in handy when it tastes Uncle Elliot's tuna casserole. It's got wrinkly, translucent skin, and I totally quake when I think of a three ounce Michael Jackson clone gestating inside of me, but in a few weeks fat will accumulate and it'll start to look remotely human. Um, what else—oh!—yeah, check this out! My doc didn't recommend amniocentesis so I don't know what version of fetus it is, but if it's of the female persuasion, her uterus is fully developed. Lets hope she doesn't inherit my lack of forethought and make you a grandma before you get your pension."

Realization struck like lightening, irradiating the surprise flashing in Lucky's blue eyes. "You? You and Elliot…adopting the baby?" he sighed, his shoulders shagging a little. "That's heavy."

"Oh, wow, I'm sorry," she smiled sheepishly between them. "I thought…well, since you were talking…I assumed you knew, Uncle Lucky. Well, I guess it's true, when you make an assumption you make an ass out of you and 'umption."

"It's all right," Lucky said more to Olivia, whose lips were already piecing together an explanation. "I think it's a good thing, you and Elliot adopting the baby."

Olivia seemed to relax and in that, she wrapped a peaceful hand around Lucy's back. Lucky brushed two tender fingers against his daughter's chubby cheek and Robin realized she was standing in the middle of her uncle's fantasy.

Looking up, Robin caught Elliot's lacerated blue eyes. Lucky's hope to wrest Olivia Stabler's romantic sovereignty away from her husband was a chimera, a fantasy Elliot hoped his wife did not share. Even if she did, Robin knew Elliot Stabler was not a man to go quietly.

_No I don't advocate God_

_And you don't seem to find love_

* * *

Liam's party ended with Lucky and the Stablers promising play dates and sleepovers and the standard parental pledges. Eli had taken to Lucky's boys and Lucky had taken to Eli's stepmother. Elliot kept his poker face, though the slight twitch in his jaw and subtle widening of his eyes evinced his agitation. If Olivia noticed his irritation, she gave no sign of it. A charge of dynamite couldn't shake her from baby Lucy, who was none to happy about being woken up from her nap. Casey Lake noticed and pulled her friend aside.

"It's Lucy she can't resist," her husky voice was gentle as she spoke with the neutrality that was missing from her brother's actions.

He nodded numbly and watched Olivia hand a soothed Lucy back to her father. Brown met blue and Olivia smiled a smile that brimmed with a connection nearly two decades old—a wide, perfect reminder that Elliot Stabler had absolutely nothing to worry about.

"See," Casey whispered, smiling her own version of 'I told you so'. "You have nothing to worry about."

Elliot nodded and led his family out to the car, leaving Lucky Novak in his wake.

"Lucky, before you go, I need your help in the kitchen," Casey glanced at her brother, ignoring the curious looks from the rest of her family.

Lucky shrugged and handed the baby to Robin.

"I…I don't think…" the kid stuttered, her arms and her feelings unsteady around the infant. Slowly, something in Robin shifted. Lucy laid in cousin's stable arms, and she stared up at the teenager, almost as if she were looking right through her. A twinge of confidence surged through Robin and she softly brushed the back of her index finger against the baby's cheek.

* * *

"You need to back off and you need to do it now."

Lucky Novak leaned against the island kitchen counter and narrowed his eyes at his baby sister. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Save it. Olivia's a married woman and she's impervious to your daddy without a clue act."

Lucky made a snorting noise as he gripped the cool granite with his left hand. He rubbed his bushy red hair with his right, his blue eyes darkening to a turbulent winter sky. "Don't ever accuse me of using my children to get into a woman's pants."

"Not a woman Lucky, Olivia _Stabler_."

"You're on thin ice, Kornelia."

"Lucky," she sighed and put the tip of her ring finger in between her teeth and nipped at the nail. "They've crossed a lot of bridges to get where they are. Things are rocky, but they're improving," she said out of the side of her mouth. "They're happy and they deserve each other and I'm not gonna sit idly by while you ruin it."

"Olivia's an amazing woman. She's beautiful, strong, but most importantly she's independent. She's got her own mind and she uses it well. If and when she decides to be with me is her decision. I'm not forcing myself or my kids on her and frankly, it hurts me to know you don't think much of me."

She let her finger go, balled up her fist, and slammed it on the counter. "She can't replace Lydia, Lucky. Putting that burden on her and your kids isn't fair."

He looked at her, a slow, deep scowl gathering in his brow. "I'll call you when I get to New York," he said coolly.

Then he was gone, leaving a light wraith of his cologne on the humid air.

_Don't waste time praying_

_Get on with finding_

* * *

Two hours later, when the house had finally quieted, Robin stood in front of her bedroom window, watching the leaves flicker in the soft summer breeze. Their stems tapped the glass; their green bodies tickled the window like butterflies before gallivanting off into the darkness.

The smell of baby powder and lavender lingered in Robin's clothes and on her arms. The soft ghost of Lucy Novak guided her cousin's hand down to the bulge in her Patti Smith t-shirt and for a few enchanting moments, Robin felt safe.

_It's been a long time coming_

_But now you've found some loving_

_Don't throw it all away now_

_Don't get on your knees and pray now_

* * *

_Just as you began to find your way_

_I found you there with just bad words to say_

Georgina Novak stood in front of her sister's door. She knew she shouldn't say anything, technically it was none of her business, but it wasn't right. Somebody had to do it and since guilt or parental pity or whatever had blinded their mother, Georgie figured the job was hers for the taking.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she forced herself to knock. Her knock was gentle, almost apologetic, barely a hint of her knuckles against the white painted wood.

"Robin, you in there?"

There was no immediate answer and Georgie was about to knock again, harder, when Robin answered in a distant voice.

"What?"

"Can I come in?"

There was another hesitation. "I'm kinda in the middle of something."

"It can wait," Georgie pushed open the door and peeked inside. She frowned at what she saw. "What's outside?"

"Knock much?" Robin growled, throwing herself toward the door.

"No," she shrugged and stole further into the disarrayed space. "We need to talk and there's no time like the present."

"Oh, well, by all means," Robin rolled her eyes. She stepped back and held her arm out in a slow sweeping motion. Georgie glided into the room, her trademark smirk firmly in place.

"How's the baby?" Georgie made herself perfectly comfortable smack dab in the middle of Robin's mattress.

"It's gestating," Robin frowned as Georgie's Vans created unsanitary wrinkles in her sheets. "What was so important—"

Georgie's voice cut her off. "You're a coward."

"Excuse me?"

"You. Are. A. Coward."

Robin ran an irritated hand through her tangled curls and sighed. "Georgie…"

"How could you even think of abandoning your baby like that?"

Robin took immediate umbrage. "Who told...?"

"Does it matter?" Georgie folded her arms in front of her, the gesture brimming with determination, and jutted out her stubborn Novak chin.

"Yeah, it does."

The nine-year-old groaned. "I overheard Mommy and Uncle Elliot talking about it in the family room earlier. The point is, how could you do something like that? How could you ask Uncle Elliot and Aunt Liv to help you?"

"Living up to our nickname, aren't we _Scout_?" Robin sighed, already running out of patience for her recalcitrant baby sister. "Besides, you wouldn't understand."

"No, I don't understand. Make me."

Robin looked into her blue eyes, expecting to find anger; instead she found hurt and disappointment. Robin brought her face up to the water stain on the ceiling somewhat in the shape of Australia—no, Canada—and drummed her fingers over her lips.

Georgie squinted at the flashing neon "She Obviously Feels Guilty" sign flashing on her sister's forehead. She blinked and it disappeared.

Shaking her head, Georgie broke her sister's reverie. "Well?"

"It's complicated," she managed.

Georgie laughed out loud. She shrugged off her big sister's glare of death and leaned her back against the poster-infested wall, finally allowing her shoes to dangle over the edge of the bed.

Robin turned her cold green eyes on her, assiduously, as if she were a slide under a microscope. "I said it was complicated, not funny."

"I know it isn't funny. You wanna throw away your baby and get on with your life. You wanna do to your baby what you accuse Mommy of doing to you. It isn't funny, it's mean and it makes you look like the biggest hypocrite ever."

"Okay, first of all, you obviously have no idea what you're talking about."

"I do to! My whole life you've been mad at Mommy because she went back to work and left us with Uncle Lucky. You've gone out of your way to make her as miserable as you because you think she loved her job more than us."

"That has nothing to do with—"

"Yeah it does!" Georgie shouted. "It's in everything that you do and you always know how to make it okay. You're a coward, the biggest coward I know!"

"Yeah? How do you figure?"

"Mommy always tries to make it better between you two. Always, but you won't let her because you think she left you when you needed her most. It's in your eyes when you look at her. It's like…it's like she makes you sick. It's like you can't stand to look at her."

"That's not true."

Georgie didn't hear her. "You don't want your kid to look at you like that when it learns you gave it up. So instead of being the good mother you want Mommy to be, you're gonna kick your own kid to the curb and make the rest of us clean up your mess."

Clamping her eyes shut, Robin took refuge inside her mind, where she could shield herself from her sister's explosions of truth, riveted in a shelter from reality. She fled to the deepest, nearly forgotten place in her memory and hid herself there.

Of course, it was unbeknownst to Georgie, as she had yet to close her mouth. "You were my hero. I wanted to be just like you, but now I know who you really are. I love you, but I don't like you and if you abandon your baby, you'll hate yourself more than I will."

The despondent slam of the door and the crack of Robin's heart against her chest mingled in discordant sound. Robin crawled from her personal asylum and surveyed her room. No sign of her sister or any other member of her family.

Searing drops flicked against her bare arm. She was crying. Huge, choking sobs. Rage and vulnerability and fear swallowed her up, leaving her in an airless sea of darkness.

After what felt like hours, she managed to regain some semblance of control and in a jumbled, unsteady swoop, she grabbed her cell phone off of her dresser. She dialed the number in a blind panic, her breath coming out frantic and hot.

"Hey. Got room for two?"

_Get out of here you're just a waste of space_

_You're on your own it's you and your disgrace_

* * *

**A/N: **I changed a few things around, but there will be more Elliot/Olivia and Chester/Casey scenes in the next chapter. Some Brandon/Robin/Jason scenes as well for those of you who care. :)

Also, the song of the chapter is _Pray_ by Syntax. Their song _Destiny_ was used as the theme for _Conviction. _It's on the playlist which can be found on my profile.

Thanks for reading ladies and gents.


	7. Pride

**A/N: **I know, I promised not to abandon this for months at a time. Sorry! Dry spell, I'm sure you all know how that is.

This updated is long, extremely long. The plot's starting to pick up as well, so be on the look out for clues as to what happens next.

Many thanks for the reviews! They are always appreciated. I don't remember if I sent out replies…it really has been a long time.

Shout outs to the folks who pestered me and supported me. Big ups to everyone with this (and me) on their favorites and alert lists!

* * *

**Chapter Six: Pride**

The man leaned against the wall, wearing a blood stained collared shirt and worn, faded jeans. His feet, clad in black leather shoes, were bent like bold parentheses. His arms were folded in front of his muscular chest, and he was headless.

Both his head and neck had been pulled from his body like flowers from the earth. His broad shoulders had healed flawlessly, a small knob protruding from where the roots should have been.

Robin didn't have time to be afraid of the man. The child at his side, with her wild red curls and wide brown eyes like two chocolate chips lost in a sea of milk, had Robin's full attention. Brown met green, and Robin shuttered when the little girl's hard features unbuttoned into a smile. Robin had seen that lopsided grin before—every time she looked at her mother.

"What do you want?" Robin asked, timidly. She was already easing backwards, though the three of them knew she had nowhere to go.

"I wanna find my mom," the child declared, her eyes shining like two freshly polished pennies. She cocked her head and, slowly, an expression of delight lit her face. "You're my mommy!"

"No…" Robin's voice shook as if it were a sail battered by a hurricane. "I don't have a daughter."

The girl ignored her and with a cheerful clap of her olive skinned hands, she began to dance gracefully about the room, like a hawk through the air, humming and giggling as she batted her long eye lashes to the notes of Robin's fluctuating heart rate.

"What do you want?" Robin shrieked, wincing as her back slammed against the cold wall of her bedroom.

"To make you pay, silly," the girl chuckled. She stopped dancing and moved back to her decapitated companion's side, taking his bronze hand into her own. Her brown eyes darkened to charred umber, her heart shaped lips cracked in the center, she led her friend towards Robin with slow and confident efficiency.

"You're not real! You're not real!"

"You killed us both and you deserve to pay!"

"I didn't kill anybody! Go away! You're not real!"

"You're gonna pay. You'll never, ever forget us. We'll always be here to show you who you really are!"

The voice was as gentle and urgent as the warm hand on her shoulder. Robin's eyes flew open and as the familiar objects of her bedroom at her grandparent's house shimmered into view, she slid from her bed effortlessly as oil from a skillet, and leaned against its gelid metal frame.

"Make them go! Make them go!" Her voice was frantic and quavery as she wrapped her arms around herself. She stared at the wall as she screamed, her eyes lost and unreachable.

Taylor Bowen-Katsaros surveyed her sister's childhood room with a surprising sense of control. The room was empty, dark, save for the furniture and her terrified sister, who was curled in front of her bed, rocking herself and mumbling.

"Robin, listen to me," Taylor said, kneeling down and pulling Robin's head into her lap. "You're safe. You're at Pappou's house with Chuckie and I. There's nobody in here but me. You're having a bad dream and you need to wake up. Look around the room. Nobody's here, nobody but me."

Robin's scalding breathe billowed into the room, her jet-black curls flat with sweat. Her gaze unlocked from the unseen duo in front of her, and she peered slowly around the room before fastening her gaze on her sister. Robin released her vise grip on her shoulders, wincing from the pain her nails had left. Her hands fell limply into her lap and Taylor immediately took them into her own, holding onto them for dear life. Robin leaned into Taylor's chest and cried a mangled opus of fear.

After what felt like hours, Robin pulled away and slumped back against her bed, exhausted and ashamed, her breath slowly returning to normal. She squeezed her eyes shut and hurled them open, relieved to find the little girl and her headless homie gone.

Robin swallowed and stared straight ahead. "What happened?"

Taylor fidgeted a bit at Robin's side. "You tell me."

She covered her face with her hands and glared at Taylor through her fingers. "You were here."

"Yeah, but you weren't."

"Look," Robin sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "I had a nightmare and the last time I checked, having one doesn't warrant an interrogation. Thanks for checking in, but I'm fine."

"You fail at lying," she smirked. "You always were a terrible liar."

"No, I'm an excellent liar and you're an even better drama queen. You over analyze situations, always looking for a crisis where there isn't one. Maybe it's a coping mechanism, I don't know, but whatever it is—I'm not in the mood."

Taylor clapped her hands sarcastically. "And the Emmy goes to…"

"Leave me…"

"No!" Taylor interrupted and gazed at her little sister, her eyes were serious and narrow as she spoke. "Haven't you learned anything from Dad? He kept it bottled up in side and look where it got him."

Robin jerked her face toward her sister, her eyes blazing feral rage. Incensed, she struck out and snatched Taylor's long neck. The feel of Taylor's life in her hands, the soft flesh bucking against her grip, her doe-like brown eyes wide as the air seeped from her lungs—gorgeous. Robin's smirk was a malicious blade, her voice jagged as a saw as she squeezed harder.

"_I am nothing like him._"

"No?" Taylor's voice struggled like drops from a faucet. "Look in the mirror."

Robin looked the girl in the mirror in the eye and her lips curled in disgust. Robin was staring at a stranger, the sentient body of her father's legacy. It wasn't her body; those refractory hands weren't her own. The girl in the mirror—slicing Robin with the eyes of a killer—wasn't real.

None of this was real. Couldn't be. She was dreaming. They were trying to prove their point, the kid and the guillotined guy. The girl's delicate fingers were around Taylor's neck and Taylor was clawing and Robin couldn't feel anything. Dawning her Judge Obvious Cloak, Robin ruled she was not the girl in the glass. This was a hallucination.

"Robin?" Taylor arched her brow, leaning against the closed door with crossed arms.

Her eyes flew up and she bolted up in bed. "Where am I?"

"Uh…at Pappou's…you got here last night, remember?"

She needed space, at least that's the explanation she gave her mother on the way to the train station. Pappou asked questions and like Georgie, Taylor and Chuckie seemed peeved about being in the dark about her plans for the fetus. She'd retreated to her room in search of desperately needed privacy, and Pappou kept the Katsaros peanut gallery at bay.

"What time is it?" Robin managed.

"Eleven," Taylor answered hesitantly. "You can't just sleep the day away. You're coming to Bloomies, we're introducing some taste into your life, and you're gonna like it…"

Taylor went on in her usual bubbly fashion, but Robin's attention found the mirror above her bookshelf. Taylor huffed and brought her manicured hands to her hips. "Hellooooo," she crooned. "You weren't listening."

"I was."

Taylor smirked. "You always were a terrible liar."

The shiver surged through her bones. She swallowed and lashed Taylor with her hollow gaze. "What did you just say?"

"I said…" she paused and shifted her weight on her dancer's legs. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Robin returned her eyes to the mirror.

Taylor glanced between her sister and the mirror. "What's in the mirror?"

"I don't know."

_Link it to the world_

_Link it to yourself_

_Stretch it like a birth squeeze_

_The love for what you hide_

_The bitterness inside_

_Is growing like the new born_

* * *

There was nothing like making love to her husband on a redwood desk, files and papers scrunching under her bare bottom, her Chanel skirt bunched around her hips.

Chester surprised her with flowers and they had danced to the soft strains of Johnny Mathis. She immediately locked the door to her office and they made love, on her leather swivel chair, against the bookshelves, and finally on the desk, blanketed by the ardent Virginia sunlight, surrounded by tree-veiled windows.

"Mommy, Ned and Liam—Oh. My. Mom? Dad?"

Casey opened her eyes and eased them upward from the dirty Vans to the perfect pink lips, now a traumatized oval. She didn't get a chance to look her youngest daughter in the eye, for Chester Lake's adrenaline rushed to the forefront and his embarrassment stole his knowledge of his strength. He pulled her forward, in hopes of protecting her image and Georgina's retinas, but the couple tumbled over the side of the desk, clumping at Georgie's feet.

Casey groaned, contemplating rather or not she should shove Chester off. He was heavy when he was in shock and the look on his face wasn't helping. Instead, she focused her green eyes on Georgie's shoes, which had tracked mud on her child-banned beige carpet.

"There's mud on my floor," Casey said blandly.

"Uh, yeah, about that," Georgie opened her mouth, closed it, and scratched the left side of her head before opening her mouth again. "See…Ned…Ned _and _Liam…they need you…dressed…Dad sold separately."

"Give us a minute, won't ya Scout?"

"Yeah…yes!" She stammered and backed towards the door, feeling behind her back for the knob. Grimacing and moaning in what sounded like pain—mostly nausea—she flung open the door. "If anybody needs me, I'll be using the debris from my childhood to poke my eyes out." Gracefully tripping over her bottom lip, she slammed the door behind her.

"Gonna let me up?"

"Oh, uh, sorry," he managed, easing off her. He hauled her to her feet, feeling his cheeks heat under her sharp green gaze.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled her skirt down to a…modest…length before buttoning his jeans.

Chester winced at the burn of her backhand across his chest. "Case…man, what was that for?"

"What part of 'lock the door' didn't you understand?"

"I did!" he hissed. Sighing, he poked out his bottom lip. "At least I thought I did." He smirked and open his arms, and she eased into them, closing her eyes as he tightened his grip. "Forgive me?"

"Just this once," she laughed softly. She stopped however, when her mind reverted back to her disturbed daughter. "I have Robin's old shrink on speed dial."

He chucked. "I don't think that's necessary."

"And if she never has a normal sex life…"

"Or if life is a kind one…she'll never have on at all…"

"She didn't say what the boys did and she'd better have an explanation for all that damn mud."

"And to even the score, she'll ask you for one."

Casey scrunched up her nose. "So, you catching?"

"Nah," he shrugged. "It's your turn."

She narrowed her eyes as she stepped out the door. "Coward."

Casey bumped into Georgie in the hallway on the way to the yard.

"Scout…"

"Ya know," Georgie tapped her finger on her chin and tilted her head. "The next time you and Dad decide to ruin my childhood, don't be so cavalier about it."

Casey swallowed. Then nodded. Then arched her brow. "Noted."

When you've seen, seen

Too much, too young,.

* * *

Hopeless time to roam

The distance to your home

Fades away to nowhere

How much are you worth?

You can't come down to earth

You're swelling up, you're unstoppable

"Help me understand this, because I really want to: why are you cutting your baby out of your life?"

Robin groaned and took another bite of the Mediterranean Chicken Tenders Taylor practically shoved down her throat. Apparently they were good for the fetus' sprouting fingers and toes. Robin had to admit, protein and calcium never tasted better.

"You promised me a day of casual shopping and sisterly time." Robin gulped down the last drop of water and stretched out on the couch, plopping her black Chucks on the coffee table. "Neither of which I really wanted, but hey, who's counting?"

"We shopped, you complained. I tried to converse with you, you either fell asleep or tuned me out. We're home now and you're going to be here for a few weeks. Dragging this out isn't going to make it go away."

"Taylor, okay…seriously…" she released a frustrated breath and brought her eyes down to her lap. "It's complicated, really complicated. I want…" Without looking up, she shook her head, weaving her fingers together and wiggling them in her lap. "I want this baby, but I don't want to raise it. I can't and I know two amazing people who can and will."

"I did ecstasy like…four times in high school and according to several neurological studies, it causes long term damage to the parts of the brain that regulate thought and memory so forgive me if I don't sense the problem."

"You know that group you told me about, the support group for…"

"…kids of the mentally ill, yeah. It helped, right?"

"It helped me see I don't want this baby winding up in one of those."

"The new parents, they mental?"

"No. Well, as mental as your average NYPD detective."

"I'm still missing…"

"I don't think…I can't love it. You have no idea how much those kids go on and on about their parents not having the wherewithal to love them and to pay attention to them. They grow up not being able to trust people, themselves. They're afraid of love and life and the dark and clowns and…what kinda mother would I be if I stuck this kid in that room?"

Taylor rolled her eyes and with a dramatic plop onto the couch, she wrapped her arm around Robin's hunched shoulders. "Leave it to you to miss the most important part. How do you think that kid's going to feel the day they realize you didn't love it?"

Robin's eyes flashed. "I said I can't, not…"

"Exactly. Okay, so you're giving the kid two great parents. That's fabulous, better than a lot of throw away babies get. What happens when the kid wants to know why? Knowing you, you haven't been honest with anyone about your motives. So, all the kid will have to go on is it's parents' interpretation. They'll want to know what made them so unlovable that their own mother wanted nothing to do with them. How do you expect the parents to answer that one?"

Flopping backwards, Robin stared at the ceiling and swallowed, her dismal mood not dispelled by Taylor's incessant meddling. "Something…changed after the accident. I don't know what and I can't explain it, but something in me died and another something woke up. I will not expose my kid to whatever's happening to me."

"Have you told anybody…about…?"

"No!" she said quickly and looked away, slightly embarrassed. "No, I can't. I will, you know, later."

"Yeah, right, 'later'," Taylor groaned. Reaching for her lower lip, she tugged and watched Robin from the corner of her eye. "You should tell your mother."

"Are you…are you serious? My mother? What's she gonna do?"

"I don't know, help?"

"She couldn't help Dad."

"You're not Dad."

"Don't be so sure."

* * *

"I told you to distract Mom, not play hide the bacon!" Georgie buckled her seatbelt and folded her arms in front of her chest. She glared at Chester as he started the car. "I'm blinded for life."

Once on the road, Chester reached over and ruffled his daughter's red curls. "You'll live. Now, Ned and Liam, they stick to the plan?"

Georgie gave a huff before nodding. "Yeah. Mom's got her hands full with the mud fight of the century. You should see the kitchen."

"And she thinks we're…"

"Going to the classic rock festival in Baltimore."

"That should buy us enough to time to go through your grandmother's basement, get the goods, and get outta dodge."

"Yeah," Georgie glanced out the window at the familiar streets.

Chester furrowed his brow. "Wanna talk about it?"

"It's just…well…Robin knows a lot more about Mommy and her obsession with baseball than the two of us put together. Plus, she knows where grandpa kept his old cookbook; you know the one with all the secret family recipes…including the first birthday cake Mommy ever had. She should be in on this."

"So why didn't you call her?"

"She left because of me. I'm not apologizing for the things I said, she needed to hear them, but I could've gone about it a little better."

"Scout, Robin's got a lot on her mind right now and she was right, she needs space and so do we. In the end, Robin's got some decisions to make, decisions we can't help her with—no matter how much we want to."

Georgie nodded and turned her blue eyes on her father. "Maybe we can get her to help when she comes back in two weeks."

"Maybe."

"So…we've got Grandma Nana on cake duty and Uncle Clayton's gonna meet us there to help find Grandpa's old baseball cards and autographed stuff…and we're gonna pick up Mommy's old bike to get it restored."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Now all we gotta do is finalize the guest list."

"And I assume you want me to pump your mother for information."

"Sure, just make sure I don't walk in on it this time."

_'cause you've seen, seen_

_Too much, too young._

_Soulless is everywhere_

* * *

"I compare myself to our mentally disturbed father and you offer me tea?" Robin chuckled, flashing a lopsided smile as she relieved her sister of the steaming mug. She inhaled the rich, calming scents of chamomile and honey before taking a sip.

Taylor shrugged and examined her recently manicured nails. "The nurses give it to my mom, you know, when she gets bad."

Robin's face softened. "How is Krista?"

She hesitated. "Fine. They've got her participating in another study and the new meds seem to be working. I visited her last week and we talked."

"Chuckie, he visit?"

She shook her head. "It's difficult for him to see her like that."

"I can imagine."

Taylor swallowed past her own pain. "However, this conversation isn't about my mommy issues, it's about yours."

"Do we have to talk about this?"

"Yes! Yeah we have to talk about it. Whatever's going on between you and your mom, she's obviously in the dark about it. You keep all that rage and fear and whatever else bottled up, it's gonna explode, and you're gonna be the one that gets burned."

"It's complicated."

"Yeah, and? Life's complicated. Most people go through it without shoulders. You, on the other hand have several, but you work overtime trying to push us away. Your mother—"

"Won't love me anymore!"

"What? Where'd you—?" Taylor paused, frowning at the tears in her sister's eyes. "It's okay," she whispered and wrapped her arms around her, holding her as she cried. She rocked her tenderly, wrapping her fingers in the mass of black curls, as years worth of fear and grief heaved forward.

Robin pulled away, violently rubbing her tears away. "Sorry."

They sat in silence for awhile, Robin's cheek on Taylor's shoulder, Robin sniffling and staring at the living room's picture infested wall. Taylor knew Robin was immune to platitudes and Robin knew Taylor rarely had any on hand. They weren't known to have flowery words. Words were raw and to the point. Whatever hurt Robin had, it was obviously old, and sometimes old hurt had to fester before it scabbed.

"When Dad had the first breakdown, when I was a baby, my mother threw him away. Things got difficult, he got difficult, and so she kicked him out and moved on. I almost _died_ and when she found out I was going to live, she tossed Georgie and I in Uncle Lucky's lap and went on her merry fucking way. That's Mom's MO. If you're drowning and you're not easy to pull up, you sink. Dad was gonna change for her and she let him go and—look!—he's dead. You, me, Chuckie, Georgie: the four of us had to grow up without a father because of her decisions. The day she figures out I'm even a _fraction_ like Charlie, I'm out the fucking door and you know it!"

"You honestly believe that?"

"Do I honestly? Yes! Yes, I honestly believe that! Taylor—come on!—Dad…"

"This isn't about Dad!"

"You don't get it," Robin rubbed her face and leaned back against the couch's soft cushions. "Every decision my mom has ever made is predicated on guilt surrounding her relationship with Dad. Remember when she was an ADA, in Manhattan? She almost lost her job and two of her closest friends trying to save a schizophrenic killer slash rapist from getting the needle…all because she couldn't save dad from taking a dirt nap…"

Taylor furrowed her brow and sighed. "She's your mom. She's loved you your entire life. She can't snap her fingers and magically stop loving you because of what's happening to you—whatever that is."

"When did you start waving my mother's banner?"

"Gee…I don't know, because you have one?" Taylor rolled her eyes. "Look, this is probably the most insensitive thing to say right now, but you're acting like an ungrateful brat."

"Excuse…"

Taylor held up her hand, silencing her. "At least you have a mother. Mine's stashed up in a nut farm and nine times out of ten, she's too drugged to keep up a real conversation. My biological father was a cold-hearted mobster who was murdered by said mentally disturbed mother and the only real father I ever had had a psychotic break and subsequently got plowed by a car. Casey's not perfect. So! She's there and she obviously wants to support you. Get over yourself and let her."

"It's not that simple," she ran her fingers through her hair, frowning when her fingers got stuck. Pitching a grandiose sigh, Robin relieved the coffee table of her now cold tea and took a hard sip. "I don't trust her. When I needed her most, she bailed on me and it hurt. Losing my memory, losing Dad…it was just…hard. Lucky was supportive, but he wasn't my mom. I almost died and she didn't even bother to take sick leave! Do you have any idea how that made me feel?"

"I can imagine, but she probably used them all, you know, seeing as she practically lived at the hospital while you were in the coma."

Robin looked genuinely surprised. "She was there?"

"You didn't know that?"

She shook her head. "Yiayia said…"

Taylor threw up her hands and rolled her eyes. "Well that explains it," she said, her voice sardonic and bitter. "That's real big, using a kid's amnesia to turn her against her mother."

"No…I mean, come on, she wouldn't…she did, didn't she?"

"Oh yeah, she did," by then Taylor had sprung from the couch and begun pacing like a sentry, flicking her bottom lip, her eyes gathered in a thoughtful line. "Casey was there everyday. I remember because Dad used to complain because he couldn't sneak in to visit you. She was glued to your side. Even when almost everyone who loved the both of you kept telling her to give up on you, she fought. She never gave up, even when no one would've blamed her for doing so."

"I don't know what to say…all these years…I thought she didn't love me and…wow," Robin looked up, her eyes glistering with tears. "Yiayia said Dad tried to see me while I was in Shady Creek and Mom wouldn't let him. Did she lie about that too?"

"No, but your mom had every right to keep him from you. Dad put you in that bed. You lost your memory because of his choices, not your mom's."

Robin swallowed. "Yiayia…she always blamed Mom for Dad's death. She went on about it so much, for so long that I ended up believing it."

"She blamed my mom too. I'm sure if I had any living relatives she would've sent me to them and kept Chuckie. Yiayia never wanted to take responsibility for her role in the whole mess. Had she supported your mom in getting Dad help the first time around, he'd probably still be alive."

"Yeah, but there'd be no Chuckie and probably no Georgie and we would've never met."

"Ten years ago I would've been happy about that," Taylor laughed.

"I don't even remember hating you."

"Yeah, you punched me in the jaw once."

"The way I heard it you slapped me. For somebody I supposedly hated on sight, you turned out to be a great big sister."

"Which goes to show, sometimes horrible things have to happen before anything good can come."

_Destroy the spineless_

_Show me it's real_

_Wasting our last chance_

_To come away_

_Just break the silence_

_'cause I'm drifting away_

_Away from you_

* * *

_Mid September: 24 Weeks_

"Please tell me this is the last box," Jason Hunter groaned, flinging the brown box into the sea of overwhelm disguised as his living room floor. The distressed hardwood floors seemed to drown under the piles of luggage and crates and chaos. Rubbing his aching temples, he surveyed the room and found himself smitten with defeat.

"You wish," Robin laughed from his recently assembled couch. "I think there's only two more left."

Jason frowned. "Glad to see you're enjoying yourself."

"Hey!" Robin tossed a cushion his way, releasing a girlish giggle when the soft mass collided with the back of her best friend's head. "I helped with…putting together the couch!"

"You read the directions."

"And you were touch, moved, and inspired."

"You could at least have the decency to break a sweat."

"I'm…gleaming. And you know what, why don't _you_ try lugging a factory of humanity up five flights of stairs and see how you fare."

"And speaking of your inner fetus, how goes the manufacturing process?" by then he had joined her on the couch, abandoning the tedious tasks besieging him. Slouching against the cushions, he glanced at the bulge in his friend's Joni Mitchell t-shirt and smiled.

"It goes," she sighed. "I don't recognize my body anymore, but it goes. I mean, there are good things…like my new set of girls."

Jason laughed and ceremoniously took a peak. "Yup, your cup definitely runneth over."

"I know, right? It's great, but it feels like my feet are pregnant too. And my hair's growing like…super fast to the point of it being astronomically unmanageable."

"Well, at least it's limited to your head. When Mama Jane was pregnant with Josie she ended up sprouting a Burt Reynolds mustache. Oh, yeah, has the kid flashed you yet?"

"Not yet. I'm debating. The adoption is tentative and I don't want to know if they don't."

"You don't want to make this baby a person."

She frowned, but nodded nonetheless.

"I can dig it."

"They want me to be in its life or they won't adopt it. I just…can we talk about something else? I've been explaining myself for weeks and frankly, I just want a normal conversation."

Jason narrowed his eyes. "Fine. So, what do you wish to speak upon?"

"Your cousin, Brandon."

"You said normal conversation."

"Okay, if I tell you a story you have to promise not to get mad."

"What are we, second graders?"

"You know," she flapped her left hand about. "Don't yell at me or lecture me or whatever."

"I didn't lecture you when I found out you were pregnant."

"You were going to when you thought I was gonna hide the whole thing."

"Because you have a penchant for pulling asinine stunts. Such as having sex with retro rockers in utility closets during 80s parties and getting pregnant before having the chance to reap a full ride to one of the top universities in the country…"

"First of all, Columbia allowed me to take a leave of absence and I can return in time for the winter quarter without jeopardizing my eligibility. Second of all, you just proved my point."

"Touché," he smiled a little and then groaned. "What does this have to do with Brandon?"

"Basically we ran into each other a few weeks ago while I was visiting with my progeny's prospective parents. We went to Grimaldi's and hung out by the water. He goes to throw away our trash and this random guy comes out of nowhere and…"

"He didn't?"

"No, but he would've, if not for your cousin—your gun toting cousin. I look up and Brandon's got a gun to the guy's head. He would've killed him if we hadn't made eye contact. So, he hits the guy over the head and acts like it's nothing…"

"I know telling you what to do is futile, but whatever. Stay away from my cousin. I know girls are attracted to the bad boy with the background straight from a psychology journal, but Brandon's dangerous."

Robin rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Officer Obvious. I told you I didn't want a lecture. I want answers. The gun, how'd he get it?"

"Look, there are a lot of things about my family you don't know or understand. Uncle Broderick didn't have clean hands and neither does his kid."

"The mechanic and the contractor apprentice?"

"Oh yeah, does Connie broadcast his business?"

Robin paled at the mention of her father's only and older brother. She rarely saw him, at her mother's insistence, but when she did, he doted on all four of his brother's children. He claimed he promised Charlie he would look out for them, probably out of guilt. Nobody talked about Connie's line of work and everyone knew better than to ask, but Robin wasn't stupid. The bodyguards, the whispers, the secrets…

"Exactly," Jason nodded at her facial expression. "Listen, he's my family, can't change that and sometimes I don't want to, but you have a choice. Make the sensible one and stay away from Brandon."

They were so caught up in each other that they didn't here the susurrus of an intruder. The air, now a pungent amalgam of cigarettes and sanded wood, shifted and two pairs of eyes turned to the grinning figure in the middle of Jason's living room.

Brandon Hunter folded his arms and angled his head in the direction of his startled cousin. "Now why should she do that?"

* * *

If any of Casey Novak's children had inherited her legal finesse, it was Edward Lake. Ned was sharp, fast on his little feet, and he watched people. He analyzed a situation, dissected those involved, and with his findings he crafted an exemplary presentation and an argument designed to cater to the ears of the jury.

With a little encouragement, Edward "Ned" Lake would definitely follow in his mother's footsteps—if she didn't ring his pencil neck for helping Liam spark up a mud fight in her kitchen.

Aware of this, Ned was determined to save his own hide—saving Liam fell into bonus range—and keep quiet about his father and sister's plans. His mother could be down right intimidating and Liam was known to crack under pressure. If convicted, both he and his could face eternity in their room and cracked hands from eons worth of dishwashing. He didn't want to think about catching Georgie's wrath. Her hair wasn't the only thing fiery about her.

"Please, explain this to me—because I'm obviously missing something—what possessed you to have a mud fight in my kitchen?"

"Well, it wasn't _in _the kitchen per se, you see it started…"

"Liam," Casey Novak managed a deep breath. "The ins and outs, they don't especially matter," her voice rose, as did the color of her cheeks, and Liam resisted the urge to cover his ears. "What does matter is the mud all over my yard and my kitchen and _you_!"

Ned glared at his little brother, who quickly shut his mouth. Their mother was yelling, which was not a good response to encourage so early in his process. Ned was horribly captivated by the challenge. They were made for each other. Litigation and Edward Lake, but how could he convince his mother to spare his life so he could pursue the relationship?

"Well?" his mother's narrowed green eyes were upon him. Microscopic beads of sweat trickled down his neck, tickling him, but he refused to swipe them away.

"Grandma Nana said you always got into things," Liam pointed out, stepping out of his mud-soiled pants.

Casey frowned at him before lifting the lid to the washer and relieving her youngest child of his pants. "Yeah," she smiled a fond, crooked little smile. "I was Mama's little trouble maker."

Ned mirrored that smile; grinning in victory at the leverage his mother had just given him. If Mommy was a troublemaker and Grandma Nana allowed her to live to tell the story, then troublemaking must be genetic and therefore, they ought not to be blamed for the gift their darling mother had bestowed upon them.

Ned rested, giving it his best shot, but Stevie Wonder could see she wasn't buying it. Before his arguments morphed into something other than standard grade maternal irritation, Ned nudged Liam, encouraging him to take a shot. He was cuter and she hadn't thrown a full-fledged primal scream his way yet.

"We're sorry Mommy! Really, really sorry! Please don't be mad!"

Little William Lake stood in the middle of the laundry room, clad only in his Daffy Duck briefs, crocodile tears cascading down his chubby cheeks, staring up at his livid mother with watery brown eyes and quivering lips. Ned, ever the concerned older brother, slung his lanky arms around Liam's quaking shoulders.

"We just got carried away," Liam whined, fiddling with the elastic band around his undies.

"Carried away? Carried away—are you, you're actually?_ Carried away!_" Casey swallowed, rubbing at the headache forming behind her eyes. She forced a tight, thin smile and clenched her hands in front of her chest. "Nice try boys, I almost bought it. Since almost doesn't count in this line of work, go upstairs and put on a change of clothes and stay in your rooms. I'll deal with you later."

Intelligence was also genetic, though the Novaks argued it was embedded solely in Casey's chromosomes, so it wasn't surprising that the boys threw in the towel and headed up to their rooms.

"I should've added more snot."

Casey shook her head and tossed in the remainder of the load before starting the cycle. Turning on her heal, she moved to leave, only to be stopped by an unfamiliar sight.

A jacket, Robin's jacket, was balled up and tossed unceremoniously in the corner. It wasn't as awe inspiring as seeing one of the world wonders, Casey knew, but Robin was fastidious about her laundry. Casey released a mordacious laugh as she stooped down to relieve the dusty linoleum of the jacket, giving it a little shake. It was almost ominous, the way Robin decided she would do her laundry separate from her families.

Casey shrugged, deciding she'd wash it anyway. Reaching into the pockets, she checked for the usual treasures kids left in their pockets—but she stopped, and frowned—sadly remember Robin wasn't a kid anymore. Yet, as if the situation made an active decision to prove her wrong, Casey's hand tightened around the familiar rough feeling of cardboard.

The business card was creased and the lettering was smudged, as if it had been handled many times. It was pretty generic, the standard sold at a copy shop, but that was expected for a community-funded service. Falls Church Community Center held support groups on Saturdays for children of the mentally ill, the card said, and the first session was at seven in the morning. Hypothetically speaking, if Robin was to be there on time, she'd have to leave at six—and she'd have to run.

And as if her daughter hadn't provided her with enough mystery, the cold sensation of metal licked the pads of her fingers. Digging around, she fished out a small metal key.

Casey squinted up at the flat, shiny key. The sunlight dripping through the room's microscopic window caught a hold of the metal, warming the corners of her fingers.

Sighing, she tucked her discoveries in the pocket of her jeans and left the room as she wondered who her daughter really was.

_When you've seen, seen_

_Too much_

* * *

"How'd you get in? No, wait, scratch that, how'd you know Robin and I were here?"

Brandon rolled his eyes and made himself completely at room in Jason's very used leather recliner. Stretching, he looked his cousin up and down and shrugged. "I called Taylor and asked her if she'd seen Robin and she told me she was hanging with you. I then called Aunt Melinda and she kindly gave me your address. You know, your mom's a security risk. You should tell her about that."

Jason glared at him. "I plan to."

"You have Taylor's number?" Robin asked from the couch.

"Of course," he flashed a toothy grin in her direction. "We dated in high school after all."

"Okay, why exactly are you here?"

"Relax Little Cuz before you give yourself a coniption. Look, I heard Robin was in town and I wanted to pay her a visit. What's the harm in that?"

"Gee, I don't know, maybe because last time she was with you she watched you pistol whip a guy in a park?"

Brandon scoffed. "Only because said guy was trying to rape her."

"The point is: Robin's pregnant. She doesn't need some knockoff Lucky Luciano following her around. You wanna follow in your dad's footsteps, knock yourself out, but don't try and turn Robin into your mother."

Brandon clapped, slowly rising to his feet. "That—wow!—see, that was brilliant. You play the baby card, toss in the sensitive subject of my parents, and you've got yourself a full house. You see, if I were a gentleman, I'd tuck my tail between my legs and bow out gracefully. "

Jason didn't even see him move. One minute he was talking, his voice slow and natural, and the next Jason's face was pressed against the ugly plastered walls and his lanky arm was being pressed behind his back. He felt Brandon's spearmint chilled breath against his chin.

"Unfortunately for you, I'm no gentleman. Compare me to my dad again, and I'll rip your tongue out and lick my ass with it, got it?"

"You can at least come up with better lines," Jason said between labored breaths.

"Come on Brandon, let him go."

"Why, so he can keep filling your brain with his stupid crap?"

"No, so you can walk me to the subway."

Both Hunters stopped breathing. Sizing her up, Brandon loosened up and allowed an annoyed Jason to wrench free,.

Jason rubbed his sore arm and used his functioning one to shove his cousin toward the door. Flipping a sideways glance at Robin, he threw his hands in the air. "Dude, what did we just talk about?"

"I know you're just trying to protect me, but it's okay. I can handle myself," she flashed a crooked smirk Brandon's way. "I kicked his ass once."

Brandon returned the smile. "I was eight and I let you win."

"Fine, go ahead. When he pulls you down, don't expect me to dive in and save you."

Glaring, she snatched her coat from the couch. "I'm a big girl, I can swim."

"After you, milady," Brandon pulled open the door and waved her in front of him. Shaking his head, he pulled his full lips into a bumptious grin. "That's the thing about chains, man. They break."

_Link it to the world_

_Link it to yourself_

_Stretch it like it's a birth squeeze_

_And the love for what you hide_

_And the bitterness inside_

_Is growing like the new born_

* * *

_It's made up of lonely moments_

_There was always a moment there when I knew_

_You always gave installments_

_Always knew you concentrated and grew_

"How far along are you?"

Robin turned away from Brandon's spiel about the difference between Edwardian and Elizabethan architecture to find the green eyes of an elderly woman roaming her body.

"Six months and some change," Robin shrugged, her cheeks reddening slightly.

The woman smiled a fond, warm smile. The subway's flickering lights only hinted at her features, but Robin was convinced the woman had been an elegant beauty once upon a time. The woman's wide eyes suggested a natural pleasantry, lulling Robin into a sense of security.

"It's so nice to see a young couple out and about. What are you, eighteen? Twenty?"

Robin blanched at "couple", but she hid it well. "I'm seventeen, but I'll be eighteen in November." She offered the last part as a justification. However, she silently kicked herself for caring what a stranger thought.

The woman didn't seem to mind. "Why, I was eighteen when I married my Joe. Like I said, it's nice seeing a young couple these days. A lot of young girls these days, when they're in the family way, just dump they're kids on the state—or worse, they just get rid of the baby all together."

Robin just nodded. Thankfully the train came to a jolting halt, and even better, she'd arrived at her stop.

"Nice talking to you," the woman waved.

"Yeah," Robin smiled slightly. "Nice."

Brandon walked her to Pappou's in silence. He followed her up the steps, but stopped short of the door, opting to sit on the wooden stoop instead. He contemplated lighting a cigarette, then thought better of it, not wanting to be blamed for defecting Robin's baby. Leaning against one of the house's wooden pillars, he looked her up and down, motioning her to join him.

"That lady," he said after she eased down next to him. "She got to you, didn't she?"

Robin scoffed. "Am I that transparent?"

He smiled a little and with surprisingly gentle fingers, he reached in and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "So, you're going through with the adoption?"

"That's the plan."

"Open or closed?"

"What…why?"

"Answer the question."

She narrowed her eyes. "Closed."

He jerked himself up, turning his brown gaze toward the empty street.

"It's what's best for the baby."

"It's what's best for you."

"Since when is this any of your business?" Robin hauled herself to her feet with astonishing speed. They were inches from each other, and though he was a few feet taller and probably much stronger, she figured she could snag a few good licks.

"Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?" the rage snatched his jaw and squeezed. His brown eyes darkened to a shiny black, teeming with pain. "This isn't about what you want…you selfish little bitch…what about that baby, what about what it needs?"

He inclined his body further into her personal space and Robin was almost afraid. "You should go."

He ignored her, plowing ahead. "So, what? You gotta change your life, maybe spend a few extra hours taking the kid to the movies or whatever, and that's too much? You're just gonna leave the kid, just like that, no letters or pictures or nothing?"

"Leave me alone."

She flinched at his sudden gush of fury and vitriol. She half expected him to spit on her. "I never pegged you for a coward."

"Not again…"

"Just tell me why. Why are you going through with this?"

"I have to!"

"Why?"

"Because I'm losing my mind!" she shouted, backing away from him. She slid her back down the pillar, the bricks cascading down her spine like falling dominos. She clinched her hair with tight fists and drew her knees in front of her chest, slowly rocking herself.

"Losing your mind? What do you mean?"

She swallowed, squeezing her hair until her scalp screamed for leniency. "I see him…I see my dad. When I go to sleep, when I wake up. He never goes away! He doesn't say anything. He just sits there and watches me until I wanna rip my fucking eyes out!"

"Have you told…?"

"No! I can't."

"Your family handled your dad, maybe they can help you."

"My dad's in the ground and my family helped put him there. Psychiatric support isn't one of our strengths. And why do you care? This isn't your kid, we're not friends…what's it to you?"

He groaned at her inevitable question. "I know what it's like to be left. My dad was the asshole to rival all assholes. He was a drunk and when he was sober, he kicked my mother's ass. When he wasn't, he kicked my mother's ass. When I was four, she had enough. I came home from school and she was gone. No note, no goodbye—gone."

"My dad needed a punching bag and I was a convenient target. She _knew_ who my dad was and she left me anyway. She sent my father the divorce papers six months later and told us not to contact her again. My dad kicked my ass in her place until the day he died and she didn't even bother to show up to claim me when the state decided to send me to military school."

"Why didn't you just go live with your aunt?"

He shrugged. "They wanted to fix me at a time when I didn't wanna be fixed. Anyway, I hated my mother for leaving me with _him._ I used wait for her in the living room at night, hoping she'd bust in and save me. I guess, I guess I didn't want your kid to feel anything like that. Even if the situation isn't as extreme as mine, those feelings create baggage. If you piss on anything I've ever told you, at least listen to me on this. Don't do this to your baby. Be there. An insane mother with answers is better than a lifetime worth of questions."

When she offered no response, he left, leaving her in the puddle of her thoughts.

_And I believe in reinvention_

_Do you believe that life is holding the clue?_

_Take away all the lonely moments_

_Give me full communication with you_

* * *

"Robin?" Olivia Stabler arched her brow at the very pregnant teenager on her doorstep. "What are you doing here?"

She bit her bottom lip, shifting her weight from her left foot to her right. "It's about the baby."

Olivia ushered her in with an eager smile, a sentiment Robin was finally able to return.

_Do you believe in reinvention?_

_Do you believe that life is holding the clue?_

_Any way to face the silence_

_Any way to face the pain that kills you_

* * *

_Your smile shine a little light, all right_

_Don't hide, shine a little light_

_Give up on your pride_

A few hours later, Robin saw herself out of the Stabler house, only to find Brandon Hunter, leaned against a vintage black Nova, watching the door from the dark street.

"…really? You're stalking me now, really?"

For once, he offered no witty comeback. "I heard you were leaving and I had to see you."

She frowned. "Should I be afraid?"

"I came to apologize."

"Are you high?" she used the railing to navigate the stairs. Pushing open the gate, she stepped onto the sidewalk.

He laughed. "No, but if you don't let me get it out, it'll evaporate."

She folded her arms and tilted her head. With a wave of her hand, she urged him forward.

"I shouldn't have laid my issues on you…or forced an explanation about your kid. Sorry, you know, for stressing you out. It isn't good for you or the baby."

"Yeah, you went about it in true dickhead fashion, but you're forgiven nonetheless. I should be the last one judging people for letting their mommy issues get in the way. Besides, you put a few things in perspective."

"Yeah?"

"I agreed to an open adoption. We haven't sorted out the details, but since I'm going to Columbia next quarter, I'll be local so it'll be easier for me to get here."

"That's awesome," he smiled genuinely. "Hey, wanna celebrate? Pizza again?"

"Can't. I'm due home in four hours and I still gotta go to my grandparent's to get my stuff."

"I'll drive you."

She dealt him an incredulous glance. "It's a four hour drive."

"Then you'll be there on time. Come on, what's the harm in a little road trip?"

She shrugged. "Let's roll."

Unfortunately for Robin Novak, there was harm in a little road trip. Five hours and some good laughs later, Robin and Brandon arrived to a livid Casey Novak.

The fight would be an epic one and it would define the direction of many lives—also, unfortunate.

* * *

**A/N: **As always, thanks for reading**!**

**Next up: **Robin, Elliot, and Olivia discuss the adoption. Olivia and Eli run into Lucky and company while shopping for Casey's birthday gift. Casey and Robin burn a bridge.

**Songs: **_New Born _performed by Muse. _Pride _performed by Syntax. They've both been added to the playlist.

There's a poll in my profile, please vote.

Also, for those of you who care, Favorite Worst Nightmare hasn't been abandoned either.


	8. Author's Note

Hey Folks!

I know I promised not to abandon my stories and I'm not, just taking a break. I'm still writing chapters and the process is going slowly, but it's going.

Real life's body slamming my free time. Between school, planning my wedding—insert laundry list of reasons here—I just don't have the time to write.

Spring break's coming up so I'm going to TRY to have some updates out for you guys then!

In the mean time, check out **forshame417's community: Casey and Elliot: C/E Central **for some awesome Casey (paired with Elliot) centered fics. Definitely check out all things **LA Lights** and **CNovak929**. Also, check out **Flash McGowen's** new fic. I was nosy and begged her for plot spoilers and it's über promising.

I'll stop my (unsolicited) advertising and be on my way. And to all the other Casey centered writers: UPDATE! I want something to read other than textbooks and lab reports!

And I'm out!

x Cusswords.


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